


Conflict of Interest

by purplespacemom



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplespacemom/pseuds/purplespacemom
Summary: [diverges from canon pre-season 3 episode 1] The Blade of Marmora requests Lance’s help on a mission.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Hexworthy for beta reading!!

Meetings with the Blade of Marmora tended to go on and on and on… Everyone took it so _seriously_ . Lance knew it was serious, he really did, but did they _have_ to talk about potential Galra trade routes for four hours without break? The Galra weren’t going to be what killed him in the end - it would be bureaucracy.

“…potential for casualties will be high,” the Blade’s leader, Kolivan, was saying when Lance returned to reality from whatever whitenoise state he’d been in. “Stealth is our best option.” A long pause. “Bringing in a sniper would be the best course of action.” A longer pause followed, this one much heavier. Hunk elbowed Lance, startling him into raising his hand.

“Yes?” Lance coughed, smoothing over his lapse in attention. “I mean, yeah, absolutely. I’m your man.” They said something about shooting so Lance probably was their man, but damn, he really needed to focus better.

Kolivan didn’t appear to have eyebrows and was quite possibly carved from stone but that still, inexpressive face managed to display something like gratitude. “Your assistance is greatly appreciated Blue Paladin.”

“Yeah, totally,” Lance agreed. To something. It sounded like he was going to be shooting something, which, _hello_ , best sharpshooter _ever_ over here, but Allura didn’t look happy.

“Lance has never been on a solo mission before. And I hesitate to send _any_ of my paladins into dangerous territory without backup.”

“He will not be alone,” Kolivan pointed out. “A Blade will accompany him.”

“See? No biggie, Princess. We got this.” He held a fist out to the Blade parked on the other side of him. Lance was, like, ninety percent sure that was Antok but those damn masks. Probably-Antok stared at his fist until Lance grabbed the Blade’s hand, curled it into a fist, and bumped them together.

“Nice.”

“Allura’s right.” Coran looked from Lance to Kolivan. “This is a dangerous mission. Just two agents against an entire Galra-controlled planet is too much.”

“The resources available of Y’tark are invaluable to both the Galra and the resistance. Removing the current Emperor Regent will stoke the flames of rebellion already burning in the oppressed lower class miners. They by far outnumber the Galra stationed there. The remaining Paladins and Blades need to be stationed off planet to prevent a strike from any Galra that might turn up. There is no guarantee that we’ll be able to bring down their communications in time.”

“Why not send a second team?” Pidge suggested. “They could be dedicated to bringing down the communications system. There’s no reason to go through all this trouble for a plan that’s more likely to go wrong than not.”

“It’s not so simple,” The Blade next to Lance spoke up, and yep, that was definitely Antok. “The communication system isn’t technology based. It’s telepathic.”

Again, that weighted silence. “You said it was what now?” Keith asked.

“Telepathic,” Kolivan repeated, nodding at Antok. “Y’tark is a planet populated by two species: the lower class miners, the Y’tarkians, and the wealthy elite, the Ylkan. The Ylkan are from a dead world. They were technologically superior to the Y’tarkians when they arrived on the planet and they quickly overtook them, despite their relatively small numbers, due to their telepathic abilities. The communication system that connects them to the Galra is based on amplifying those abilities to reach the nearest Galra battle cruiser.”

“If they can _read minds_ then how are we supposed to move around without them knowing?” So much for a badass solo mission to prove his worth. Lance wasn’t one of the damn X-Men. He couldn’t shield his mind!

“We’ve developed a countermeasure,” another of the Blade spoke up, the one with the tail whose name Lance could never seem to recall. “A dampener, you could call it. It isn’t a permanent solution but we’ve got two of them up and running. They’ll buy enough time for our agents to get in, complete the mission, and get out.”

A psychic shield? Scratch that. Lance was _totally_ one of the X-Men.

“But that doesn’t change anything! Kill the Emperor Regent and get out - what about the Y’tarkians? They’re still weak to the Ylkans! And the Ylkans could still contact the Galra!” Pidge’s frustration bled into her words. “This plan is full of holes.”

“The Emperor Regent _is_ the communication system,” Kolivan said., “He’s the only one with the amplifier. Bringing him down will be enough to keep the Galra away. While the mission is underway, the rest of us will be creating a disrupting field around the planet to disable any other forms of communication the Galra stationed there might have,”

“And the Y’tarkians?”

“Too numerous to stop,” Kolivan said. “My contact has said they have found a way around the psychic attacks. We have to trust that this is true.”

“Giving them the means to rise up and retake their planet,” Pidge summed up. “I have to admit it’s in line with what we’re trying to do everywhere else. If they can bring down the Ylkans from there, we could find ourselves with another valuable ally.”

“And the resources they have…” Allura frowned. “If there’s no other way, then I consent. Lance, you will accompany the Blade agent to Y’tark and carry out the mission. Do you object?”

“Hell no, I’m in!” Like Lance could say no if he wanted to. He was the only option, and being first choice wasn’t something he’d let pass by him. He looked down the table at Keith, his first instinct to gloat, but Keith kept his attention on the projected planet’s surface. Lance felt that rush of pride squashed beneath the heel of his own childish impulse and redirected his focus to Kolivan.

“Good,” Kolivan said. He stood from the table and the rest of the Blades followed. “We leave immediately.”

“Immediately?” Allura stood with them. “But–we haven’t discussed anything! The–the logistics, the technology required–”

“For training,” Kolivan clarified. “The dampener will not block the Ylkan from our minds. Your Blue Paladin will have to learn to use it.”

“So… We’re going to your base.” Lance pushed away from the table and made to follow Kolivan, but his gaze drifted to Allura, to the conflict written plainly on her face. “But what about finding Shiro? We can’t form Voltron, and we’re already down a lion.”

“Sacrifices must be made in war.”

Well, if that wasn’t the vaguest advice Lance had ever heard. Kolivan was an expert at that kind of thing. Lance could always tell he meant to help but by the time Lance figured out what he meant, the point was usually moot.

“Maybe one of us should come with–”

“That won’t be necessary,” one of the masked Blades cut Hunk off as Lance tailed Kolivan out of the room. “We’re already putting our base at risk just letting one of you come in.”

Lance hurried after Kolivan. _That_ was not a conversation he wanted to be part of, if the look on the princess’ face was anything to go by.

But they didn’t make it more than halfway down the corridor before rapid footsteps stopped Lance mid-step. Allura grabbed his arm and placed a small device in his hand. “A secure communication device,” she said, closing Lance’s hand around it. “I believe you can do whatever necessary for the task at hand, but I fear you might not be so certain.” She gave his hand one last squeeze before stepping away from him. “We’ll be waiting, Lance. Good luck.”

“That won’t work in the base,” Antok said, shouldering through the small crowd of Blades to walk by Lance’s side. His voice rumbled from his chest, deep and growl-like, but Lance found himself unthreatened. Antok was enormous but nothing about his demeanor outside of missions brought a predator to mind. He was more like a sleeping bear: only dangerous if provoked. “We keep all communications limited to the absolute necessary.”

“Yeah,” Lance shrugged, “I had a feeling.” He wasn’t surprised, but the fact that Allura’s kind gesture was meaningless dampened his mood. When they boarded the Blade’s ship and closed the hatch, Lance heard the catch of the airlock like a physical barrier cutting himself off from his newfound family. The paladins were as good as lost to him, at least for a time, and the idea of being even more isolated than he already was hollowed out his chest, a physical ache.

It wasn’t until they boarded the ship bound for the Blade of Marmora’s base that Kolivan addressed Lance directly. “You’re skilled,” Kolivan said, “but like the rest of the paladins, you’re sloppy. You take unnecessary risk. You let your emotions cloud your judgement.” The full force of his attention made Lance uneasy. He wanted to look anywhere but at those sharp eyes, but he was paralyzed. The phrase _deer in headlights_ came to mind. “On this mission, I will accompany you. You will be acting as a member of the Blade of Marmora. Forget your time as a paladin.” He narrowed his eyes. “As a group, you see yourselves as fated to your role. If you continue to see yourself as irreplaceable you will hesitate on the field. There was a Blue Paladin before you. There will likely be another after. The mission comes first, regardless of whose life may be at stake.”

“Right, of course,” Lance babbled over the roar of _you are replaceable_ in his ears, like he didn’t already know the truth and have to face it every time he fell short of expectations, “I’m all about the mission. Mission guy, over here. Laser focused. Like a - like a _panther_.” God, what the hell was he talking about? Kolivan didn’t know and apparently didn’t care, because he turned that scary intensity onto the control panel of the ship and began inputting coordinates. Lance stuffed the sting of Kolivan’s disregard way deep down, forcing his mind to move on.

Did Kolivan ever smile? Or, you know, talk about non-mission things? Lance couldn’t picture it.  Kolivan probably slept with his eyes open, standing up, and recited the Blade of Marmora oath to himself when he woke up. Not that there _was_ an oath, but secret organizations hell bent on bringing down space dictators seemed like they should. Or maybe -

“We’re about to go into a slipstream,” Antok informed him, taking the seat to Lance’s right. “I suggest you secure yourself. I don’t enjoy enjoy cleaning the new recruits off the ship interior because they didn’t listen to the boarding instructions.”

Actually, Lance would bet money that was _exactly_ the kind of thing Antok would enjoy. Even so, he fumbled his way into the seat harness just as the ship purred to life, zipping out of the hangar and into a slipstream in the blink of an eye. Confined to his seat, Lance felt the pressure of the amazing speed carrying them forward much keener than he did in the castle or his lion. The metal around him freaked and shuddered as though it might give way at any moment. His eyes squeezed shut, and he heard Antok chuckle next to him. “Trust me,” his companion said. “I _know.”_

“This ship is used to this, right?” Lance cringed at the crack in his voice.

“It hasn’t fallen apart before,” Antok said with a frankly obscene amount of cheer. He slapped Lance hard on the shoulder, no doubt his own kind of encouragement. The sentiment was ruined when Antok added, “But there’s a first time for everything.”

Well, Lance thought. Shit.

 

*****

They didn’t die.

Small mercies, Lance reminded himself. He would live to see another day. On the other hand, Kolivan continued with the whole cyborg schtick, staring unblinkingly at him when he spoke and shadowing Lance wherever he went in the Blade base. Lance had been there a whole two hours and he was, like, thirty seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

“So,” Lance said.

“Have you finished?” Kolivan actually looked like he expected an answer. Finished _what_? When Lance asked as much, Kolivan’s expression actually shifted, softening from the sternness Lance was accustomed to into something more approachable. Okay, it might have been an involuntary tic but Lance would take what he could get. “Exploring,” Kolivan clarifies. “If so, then I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“Exploring,” Lance repeated. “Definitely what I was doing. Not wandering aimlessly.”

“I understand the need to familiarize yourself with new surroundings. It is a warrior’s instinct.”

Never mind that Kolivan was giving Lance way too much credit, Lance would take it! “Hell yeah it is! But, uh, I’m done. All explored out here!”

Kolivan nodded, once again all business, and swept by Lance, guiding him down a corridor he’d passed through about three times already. Lance followed until Kolivan stopped to tap a complicated pattern on the wall. A door appeared out of nowhere, melting into view and finally appearing as if it had been there all along.

“Memorize that,” Kolivan instructed him belatedly. “Change it if necessary. Only you should have access to this room.”

“Only me,” Lance said, “and you?”

Something in Kolivan’s gaze shifted. “If you will it,” he said, vague as ever. “You have two vargas to familiarize yourself with your quarters and prepare yourself. Training will commence immediately after.”

“Cool.” Lance nodded. “And training will be where exactly? I didn’t see the training room earlier so I’m not—“

“The entire base serves as a training room.” Kolivan stepped out of the doorway, his huge frame taking just as much space at its side. “Two vargas,” he repeated. “Be prepared.”

“That sounded ominous...” Lance spared a moment to watch Kolivan fade into darkness at the end of the corridor, amazed that someone so large could move without the slightest sound.

The room assigned to him was spartan. Even his room in the castle was bare but at least there, he felt a warmth, never questioned that he was welcomed, that it was his home. The Blade of Marmora’s base felt more more hostile and alien than anything he’d experienced so far. The lighting was a dim violet and controlled by a touch pad on the wall by the door, which faded from sight once he’d shut it. Placing his hand on the wall told him nothing. When the door was gone, the wall felt the same as the rest of the room: cold and metal. When he tapped the sequence Kolivan showed him, the texture of the wall actually changed as it shifted into the door. It wasn't an illusion by any means but Lance could connect magic with the Blade. Science, then, yet another level of technology Earth hadn’t come close to touching.

He sat on the hard bed without the slightest bounce. That was _so_ going to wreck his back. He eased himself back and curled onto his side, staring bleary-eyed at the smooth metal wall.

The team had spent the past two weeks fighting battle after battle, only to touch down long enough to help the refugees swept up in the tide of war and follow every possible lead to Shiro to its inevitable dead end. The problem with fighting on such a large scale; giant robot lions versus enormous battle cruises and beasts, was that collateral damage became an unavoidable reality. Civilians would always suffer, no matter how good their intentions, no matter what preparations they made. What little down time the paladins did have was spent training or improving the ship, the pressure of their mission and of finding the missing Paladin goading them into longer training sessions and shorter nights. Tie spent sleeping in was time lost to the ever expanding Galra Empire. Lance knew he was falling behind, but training with Blades would change that. They’d recognized his skill; that had to mean something! Lance would keep getting better, and next time, he’d be fast enough. Good enough. He wouldn’t let the team down.

But God, he wanted to go home.

Lance drifted off, caught between sleep and consciousness, a comfortable state of unawareness. He could have stayed like that for days.

But like a light switching on, the soft _snck_ of a blade unsheathed jerked Lance back to reality. He rolled off the bed and hit the ground hard, not hesitating to jump to his feet, sidestepping the next swipe of the blade with a half second to spare.

 _Move_ , his instincts shrieked. _Get of the room, out of that small space_ . Lance charged his assailant, slamming both of them into the partially open door. Lance fell into a sprawling heap, long legs tangled with his attacker’s, the other’s tail winding its way around his waist. Lance dug his nails into the rough flesh of it, and though he felt the tightly coiled muscles tense and spasm beneath his grip, the pain didn’t stop the other from hoisting Lance into the air and sending him crashing into the opposite wall. Lance released the tail, scrabbling at the ground to grip something, _anything_ , but it was no use. He went crashing into the opposite wall, his head snapping back with such force his stomach roiled, bile souring his tongue.

“Enough.”

The tail unwound itself from Lance’s abdomen, his attacker drawing away to stand at ease. Kolivan stepped past him, looking down at Lance. “Three minutes,” he said. “You’re dead. The mission failed.”

“That was a test?” Lance wheezed. He struggled to sit himself up, resting his back against the wall. His ribs screamed their protest in the form of white hot pain lancing up his back, the throbbing in his skull blurring his vision.

“One that you failed,” Kolivan said. He did not move to help Lance up. “I won’t say I expected differently.  You don’t have the mindset to make it in the Blade of Marmora.”

Lance couldn’t lie; the comment stung. “Great. So what now? Ship me back? Invite someone else? Because honestly your hospitality is terrible. I’m going to wreck your google reviews.”

“I won’t pretend I know what that means. Don’t assume your failure is without purpose, Blue Paladin. You don’t belong with the Blade _yet_.” Now Kolivan did help Lance, reaching down to grasp one of Lance’s clammy hands in his own, pulling him upright in one smooth motion.  “You will report to medical. Tomorrow we will begin again. I will show you the flaw in your thinking.” Kolivan pushed Lance to lean on him, holding him upright as they went. The Blade who attacked him was gone, vanishing as quickly and silently as he’d come.

“The flaw in my _thinking_? I got my ass kicked,” Lance complained, allowing Kolivan to take his full weight. “How about the flaw in my technique? Teach me some of those sweet ninja moves you guys are always pulling!”

“Your skill kept you alive,” Kolivan said, the low vibration of his voice oddly soothing. “Your thinking kept your _enemy_ alive. There is no place for mercy in war, Blue Paladin.”

Lance fell silent, pulling apart the fight. He’d never considered striking back, he realized, stunned. He just wanted to escape, to survive. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he admitted.

“Your greatest flaw. Learn to overcome it,” Kolivan advised him. “The time for mercy has long since passed.”

“What if I can’t?”

Kolivan was silent for a moment, considering his words carefully. “If you can’t, it will not matter. Your enemy has evolved past such notions. You will die.” He said it so plainly.

Lance looked down at his feet, the nausea returning full force. The rest of the way to medical, they didn’t speak.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Hexworthy for the awesome beta job!! And thanks for the comments and kudos and all :)

The healing pod took a quick few vargas to bring Lance back up to speed. Unlike the cryogenic technology of the Alteans, whatever race the Blade got it from relies on some kind of smoky yellow chemical. Lance was strapped into the pod to make certain anything damaged would heal in the correct way, and then the door was shut. The yellow plumes swirled up from the vents by his feet and obscured the view of the Blade medical officer on the other side of the glass. It took him a few moments to realize that while the gas had analgesic properties if the sweet high he got was anything to go by, he would still be fully conscious while he healed. Bummer.

He floated in and out of awareness until a sudden vacuuming sound caught his attention. Lance looked at his feet and saw the clouds of chemicals vanishing into the vents. When the pod cleared, the vents shut, opening a second set. He could feel air blowing out the new vents.

“Oxygen,” a voice said, muffled by the thick pane of tempered gas between them. Lance’s head began clearing as he refocused his attention. “You’ve healed well according to the last scan. I’ve put you on oxygen to clear the rest of the solution from your system. Ten dobashes, then I’ll let you out.”

Ten dobashes. Lance could do that.

But as his mind cleared fully of the sedative effects of the healing chemical, he couldn’t turn his attention away from the fact that he was restrained in a small box. He flexed his arms against the cuffs securing him to the pod’s backboard and closed his eyes. It had to have been at least five dobashes. He could do five more. 

Counting down the time grounded him until he at last heard the mechanical whir or the restraints retreating into the inner wall of the pod. When the door of it retracted, Lance didn’t hesitate to sling himself out of it, managing not to knock himself out on the nearest sharp edged table by the grace of God alone.

The medical officer shook his head. “Your species reacts poorly to that technology,” he spoke in a low tone, as though the words were for his use alone. “I’ll make note of that.”

“Uh, yeah,” Lance rubbed his shoulder, self-conscious at his obvious panic, “small spaces are a no-go.” It was then he realized the Blade didn’t have a mask. “Woah, a face!”

The officer was clearly Galra, his eyes a vivid yellow that brought Sendak to mind. He didn’t tower over Lance like Antok and Kolivan did, instead only standing about half a foot above him. His skin looked decidedly less furry, reminiscent of Ulaz’s more reptilian skin. But the teeth - those were _sharp._

“We do tend to have those,” the medical officer said with a crooked smile. “I’m Ifiok. I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

Lance deflated, shoulders slumping. “Not going to lie, man. You’re probably right.” 

Ifiok nodded, the ridges of his brow dipping together. “You have my sympathy. I would sooner battle Zarkon himself than choose to train with Kolivan again.”

Oh, wow, that did not make Lance feel better. “Buddy, I could have lived without that detail.”

Ifiok shrugged, unbothered. “You would have learned as much eventually.” A monitor across the room beeped, and Ifiok turned his attention to it. Lance waited until it became clear Ifiok forgot he existed before muttering a goodbye and shuffling out of the medical room.

He didn’t hurt, but his skin felt tight all over, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Lance could only assume it was the side effect of the Blade’s healing pod. “Just get back to your room,” Lance mumbled to himself. Hopefully without the sneak attack this time. When Kolivan warned him the entire base was used for training, Lance was thinking, like, parkour or something! Not _we wait until he falls asleep then attack_ ambush crap. Unbelievable.

“I heard you’d already ended up in medical.” And there was Antok.

Lance rolled his eyes. “That was just a misunderstanding. When Kolivan said training started in two vargas I thought he meant he’d wake me up with a bugle right by bed and make me run laps.”

Even with the mask on, Lance could tell Antok was giving him a _look._

“What does that mean?”

“Never you mind,” Lance said. “Hey, mind telling me where I am? The whole _all corridors are the same_ decor isn’t really working for me.”

“Navigating by sight alone is a weakness.” Antok nudged him to the right. “Get to know your surroundings. Not even we are impervious to attacks.”

“When Kolivan said the entire base was used for training, he really wasn’t kidding.” Lance slipped his hands in his pockets, dejected. He really didn’t get it before, but the fact was that the Blade of Marmora didn’t have an off switch. They didn’t shut down the training room and sit around over a bowl of food goo. Every moment of every day was preparation for war, moving toward their ultimate goal. Lance couldn’t picture it - not that he’d have to worry about imagining it. He was going to _live_ it.

The difference between the paladins and the Blade was insurmountable. And Lance couldn’t even catch up to his fellow paladins! Hunk couldn’t even fly without hurling when they got stuck in space yet he adjusted with seemingly little effort. Like he belonged.

Antok trailed after him. “You should eat. The healing pod overworks your metabolism.”

“Not really hungry,” Lance brushed him off, “but thanks. I think I’m just going to crash.” 

“If you insist.” Antok was _clearly_ judging him. “Rest well, Paladin.” But callous though he sounded, Antok reached out, mussing Lance’s hair with one of his enormous hands before leaving him to rest.

Finding his room was easier than Lance thought, mostly because no one bothered cleaning up the blood he’d spit all over the floor earlier. He tapped the code and stepped inside, letting the door fade from view behind him as he all but collapsed on the thin, hard bed.

His clothes felt gross, sweaty and torn, and the sickly sweet smell of the chemical fog from the healing pod clung to it. He didn’t even get a chance to pack! What was he supposed to do, stew in his own filth until Kolivan and his merry bunch of space ninja decided to kick him to the curb?

Screw it. Lance just need to sleep it off and spring back to -

A series of sharp taps on the wall summoned the door back from wherever it went. Lance watched them open, allowing Kolivan to step inside.

So much for sleeping it off.

“Good, you’ve recovered.” Kolivan remained in the doorway, even as he ducked his head to step into the room. “Follow me. I have something for you.” His nostrils flared. “I’ll show you the showers as well.”

“Are you saying I smell?” 

“Yes.”

“Gee, thanks.” Lance rolled out of bed and to his feet, stretching his arm over his head to relieve the tightness in his shoulders. “So after I get prettied up, I’ll throw these clothes back on and we’ll get to work.”

“No need.” Kolivan pinched at the torn, dirty clothes, tugging at Lance’s shirt. “We can dispose of these. I have a uniform for you. While you work with us, you should blend in.”

Lance stumbled at the pull, taken off guard by Kolivan’s casual show of strength. “Woah man, is it _that_ bad?”

“Galran senses are enhanced compared to humans. Our sense of smell is particularly keen.” 

“Well maybe _someone_ should have let me pack before dragging me off to their secret space ninja base!”

“I’ll endeavor to remember scheduling in personal time for you next time we have to start a coup.”

“Was that a _joke_?!” For Kolivan, That was basically stand up comedy. Lance put a hand over his heart. “That was _beautiful_.”

And if the muted attempt at humor threw Lance for a loop, the flustered surprise on Kolivan’s face was Christmas come early.

***

The showers reminded Lance of the garrison a little too much - or maybe prison. _Definitely_ not designed with his involved skincare routine in mind. 

But what came after more than made up for it.

“Amazing,” Lance gasped. “This thing has _night vision_?” He turned the lights all the way off, vibrating with excitement. 

“Not altogether necessary for galra, but many of the Blades are of mixed blood.”

Lance got a freaking Blade of Marmora uniform. He needed a full length mirror to fully appreciate it, but the bodysuit and accompanying armor and apparatus fit him like a glove. “Looks good, right?” Lance pulled the mask off after activating the lights, wiggling his eyebrows at Kolivan. If only the Princess could see him! Maybe they’d let him keep the uniform as a cool memento…

Kolivan looked him up and down. “It suits your body well.”

Lance fumbled the mask, dropping it to the ground. “Um. I—thank you?” His voice broke on the last word as he scrambled to grab the mask. Talk about embarrassing… it was almost as bad as that time he’d been allowed to give a toast at his tia’s wedding when he was twelve and in the throes of a puberty shitstorm.

Mercifully, Kolivan let it go. “According to my contact on Y’tark, our timeline could be moved up with very little notice at any time. We will begin preparations immediately.” 

Lance followed him out of the room. “Training time, huh? What first? Throwing knives? Secret Galran martial arts moves?” Lance mimed shooting a gun. “I’m more of a long range combat guy myself, but I can take anything you throw at me!”

“You’ll be learning to use the psychic dampener and maintain perfect focus.” Kolivan brought him past the medical room to an area of the base he hadn’t been to. The pattern he used to get into the room was more complicated, his clawed fingers moving too fast for Lance to process. “Once you have adjusted the technology, we’ll worry about your long range combat skills.”

“Trust me,” Lance insisted. “There’s _nothing_ to worry about.” He followed Kolivan inside, doing a double take at the empty room. At first he assumed it was a storage room or an otherwise unused space, but there was a single mat rolled up and propped against the wall in the far corner - a bed, most likely. Lance remembered how quickly Kolivan tapped out the passcode pattern to the room, the familiar ease. “Wait a second, is this _your_ room?”

If Lance thought his personal room was spartan, it had _nothing_ on Kolivan’s quarters. No windows, no furniture. Lance found it unbearably lonely.

“It is,” Kolivan conformed. “We will acclimate ourselves with the dampeners here until we’re ready for the next step.”

“That’s one way to limit distractions,” Lance said, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced the reality of hours spent in a room alone with only Kolivan to - 

_Wait just a minute_. The rest of what Kolivan said sunk in. “You’re the one coming with me?” Lance gaped at him. “But you’re the leader! You can’t just—just—“ 

“I have before, and I will again.” Kolivan sat on the floor, his large body moving with a fluid grace. Lance felt gangly and awkward next him, self-consciously folding himself down and into as small a space as possible.

“So,” Lance said, awkward. “What now? This is getting a little too _Karate Kid_ for me. Please tell me I don’t have to practice my balance on wooden beams.”

“You’re speaking Common, yet I have no idea what you’re saying.” Kolivan frowned, bemused. “Your balance is of no consequence to this mission. Today we’ll begin with the dampeners.” He reached into one of the many hidden pockets in his uniform and pulled out a small black bag. Lance immediately began patting himself down because just how many pockets did the uniforms have? He found _another one_ beneath the cowl and wiggled his fingers into the small gap.

Kolivan cleared his throat. “If you’re done?” When Lance nodded, flustered, he continued: “The dampeners were created based on mental linking technology originally created by the Alteans.” He emptied the little bag into the palm of his hand, four little metal pieces tumbling out.

“Oh, _those_ things?” Lance plucked one off Kolivan’s palm and held it, examining it in the light. 

“You’ve used them?”

“Yeah, for forming Voltron. Like, sharing our minds and building trust. Voltron is similar.”

“Interesting.” Kolivan looked thoughtfully at Lance, then shook his head. “For these,” he handed Lance a second piece, “I want you to do the exact opposite. This is the dampener,” he gestured to the second piece, “and that is the Altean tech,” he nodded to the first piece Lance grabbed. “We will use it to simulate the Ylkan’s abilities and try to fight it.”

Lance looked from one piece to the other. “Let’s do it.” He put the larger piece on first, fitting it snugly over his forehead. He waited until Kolivan placed then dampener, then mimicked him, fitting in place behind his ear.

“Engage,” Kolivan said.

At once, Lance could tell it was working. His mind felt open; there wasn’t a better word for it. He felt like the doors holding his thoughts had blown wide open, exposing him to Kolivan. But unlike his training with the paladins, there was no physical projection of his or Kolivan’s thoughts. Everything went straight into his head, snatches of images and emotions stealing across the surface of his consciousness too quickly to grasp.

“Focus,” Kolivan instructed. “The dampener will allow your mind to act like a mirror, reflecting only what the instigator sees and allowing nothing of your own thoughts, but you must concentrate.”

Like a mirror. Lance could do that. He let his mind go empty, his face relaxing, but just as quickly he found his focus shifting, reaching for the images leaking from Kolivan’s mind: a crying child, an empty house, soldiers marching. Lance’s mind touched down on each image, then turned inward: his home, the beach, his mother - an ever growing sense of anxiety bleeding through it all.

“Disengage.”

Everything stopped. Lance was left behind a wall of darkness. 

“Open your eyes.”

His eyes _were_ closed. That explained his sudden, inexplicable blindness… Lance opened his eyes, vision blurred by the tears leaking steadily down his face. “I don’t think that went well,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“You would be correct. However,” Kolivan said, removing the dampener from behind his own ear, “you should also recognize that my own failure triggered the feedback loop. This technology is as new to me as it is to you, Paladin. We will need time to adjust.”

Lance rubbed at his eyes with the back of his arm, furiously blinking away tears. “Isn’t there someone who could, I don’t know, show us how this stuff works? Where’s the guy who made it? He’s a Blade, right?”

“Was,” Kolivan corrected, reaching across the space between them to remove Lance’s dampener and the linking technology. “He created this and perfected its use. He was also killed on a routine scouting mission three movements ago.” His hand was warm when it brushed the side of his head, his neck. Lance wanted to lean into it.

Stupid psychic feedback.

Blowing out a long breath, Lance steeled himself. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

“The feedback goes both ways.” Kolivan put the little metal attachments back in the bag, stowing it away beneath his cowl. “Your metabolism is overworked. You need to eat or you’ll be of no use to me.”

“I could keep going.” That didn’t sound even a little convincing. Whether it was his competitive nature or just shame, Lance felt a pang at being the reason they had to call it quits. The weak link. _Keith_ could have kept going. He probably could have gotten it all right the first time, too.

Kolivan shook his head. He stood, holding out a hand and helping Lance to his feet. “Now is not the time to push. I often forget such boundaries. Recover today. Success will come tomorrow.”

Ah, fortune cookie wisdom. Lance knew it well. “Can’t argue with the boss man,” he said, giving Kolivan’s hand a squeeze. Kolivan abruptly let go and turned to activate the door.

“Follow me.”

Lance did.

***

They tried again the next day - better, but not good enough.

“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Lance gritted out, raking a hand through his hair. “This is way out of my realm of expertise!”

“You need to let me touch your mind and move on. Don’t just begin speaking to me.” Kolivan looked weary. “Perhaps we need a new approach.”

“And what’s that?” Lance reached up to pull off the link and dampener, but Kolivan grabbed his wrist.

“Leave them on.”

“What? Why?”

Kolivan released him. “We’ll keep them on. Learn to live with the feeling of sharing our minds.” Even as he spoke, he looked unsettled. 

“I don’t want to give you free range in my head!”

“It’s not the most appetizing idea I’ve ever had, but succeeding is what matters. Cast aside your own comfort. We do what we must.” Kolivan felt so strongly about it that echoes of his emotions, the discomfort buried under dedication and unwavering loyalty to the cause. Lance couldn’t whine, not when do much was at stake.

He wondered what Kolivan felt from him.

“Fine.” Lance looked away. “Let’s do it.” He began reaching out with his mind, grasping at the link between them, Kolivan cut him off, slamming down a mental shield Lance couldn’t penetrate.

“The Ylkans live with this, constantly in and out of each other’s minds. Learn what that feels like, then we’ll begin utilizing the dampeners to end that open access.” Kolivan stood and pulled Lance with him. “Practice your shooting. You’ll need to work on your focus with someone else’s mind working against you.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you already good at this?” Great, add another item to the list of things Lance has fallen behind on.

Kolivan tapped at Lance’s temple. “I’m still in here. Your frustrations are understable, but don’t let them get the best of you.”

“You sound like Shiro.” Lance laughed. “Wouldn’t have expected a pep talk from you.”

“A pep talk?” Kolivan shook his head. “No, never mind. The black paladin was a good leader. He sacrificed himself to end Zarkon. The Blade of Marmora mourned his loss.”

“There’s no reason to mourn. Shiro’s not dead!” 

“I’ve offended you.” Kolivan didn’t seem to know what to make of the sudden flare of anger. Lance could feel confusion leaking through the link. Then, upsettingly, he could feel pity.

Lance stumbled backwards, putting space between them. Had they been standing so close? “I’m going to—the range,” he blurted. “Practice some shooting.”

He left before Kolivan could protest, not certain why he thought Kolivan _would._

The paladins would never talk like that, like Shiro was gone. He wasn’t. Displaced was the right word. Shiro was missing, but they’d get him back.

Lance’s accuracy was terrible that day.

****

“So this is, like, a dry run?” Lance fiddled with the seat restraints as he watched Kolivan prepare for launch. “Just more practice?”

“It is,” Kolivan confirmed. “This mission is low risk with no chance for psychic interference. You’ve never been out in the field as a Blade of Marmora before. I believe it necessary for you to understand what’s coming.”

They’d left the dampeners and the psychic links back wherever Kolivan stowed them when he wasn’t on base, and Lance felt oddly bereft without them. He’d gotten used to Kolivan’s mind brushing against his own, the push and pull of shared thoughts and memories. He’d been embarrassingly into the feeling of being that close to another person. Alone in his head for the first time in days, Lance felt isolated. 

He held his Bayard in his lap, staring out the window screen of the small shuttle as they departed, launching out of the hangar. Behind them, the hangar closed and the base disappeared from view. “So what are we doing? Fighting Galra? Who am I kidding, what else do we do?”

“This will be different than what you’re used to.” Kolivan tapped a few numbers into the computer then set the autopilot. He turned his seat toward Lance. “There’s a lower level Galran Officer preparing to step into a higher position in a factory we believe is a front for storing and passing along quintessence. If we get him out of the way, the next in line is an undercover Blade.”

“Get him out of the way,” Lance echoed. “You want me to kill him?”

“I do.” Kolivan didn’t hesitate. “If you can’t do it now, when the stakes are low, you won’t be able to do it on Y’tark. Now is the time to choose, Pala—Lance.”

“Oh, we _are_ getting friendly, aren’t we?” But the joke fell flat. Kolivan didn’t comment on Lance’s frayed nerves, but he did reach across and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder, his claws brushing against Lance’s collarbone.

“You are capable of this,” Kolivan said. “Your mind holds you back. Don’t forget that.” His hand lifted from Lance’s shoulder, leaving him cold.

So what if he had to kill someone? He knew it was coming. He _did._ People had to kill all the time in war, and no one went around calling _them_ murderers. Lance was a good person. He could do this, could complete the mission and impress Kolivan and still be himself. It wouldn’t change anything.

Lance’s stomach turned. 

But what if it _did_ change him? The team didn’t know. He’d only been able to send the one transmission to them - no time to bring up his worries. Allura could do it, though. So could Keith and Shiro. Hell, Pidge could handle this better than him. Hunk would understand, but Hunk was better at compartmentalizing. He knew right was right and wrong was wrong - Hunk could justify what had to be done.

But Lance fell short. Shooting mechanical sentries and taking non lethal shots was all well and good, but that kind of mercy wouldn’t help them defeat the Galra empire. Still -

One of Lance’s earliest memories was sitting in mass, squished between his parents and sisters, and hearing about Hell, about the unforgivable sin of taking a life. He’d been young and the Father’s words terrified him. Maybe they still did.

“I’m not used to your silence,” Kolivan commented, grabbing Lance’s attention again. 

“I have a lot to think about.”

“And very little time.” Kolivan’s lips turned up, as close to smiling as Lance had ever seen. “Perhaps, in your case, thinking is not the best option.”

“Yeah?” Lance leaned back in his seat, spinning it toward Kolivan. “Then what is?”

“We’ll arrive in thirty dobashes. The target will be walking between a factory and an outpost based in the wall surrounding the factory. Where will you station yourself?”

“Huh.” Lance frowned, thinking. “We’ll only have one shot,” he began. “Guards will be with him?”

“Sentries, at the very least.”

“And he’ll be taller than any of those,” Lance continued. “On the wall would be best, depending on its height. A tree, maybe. Somewhere stable and out of sight. Where will you be?”

“Meeting my agent. This promotion will come as a surprise to him. I need to make sure everything is in place.”

Kolivan never got to stop thinking about the Blade of Marmora. He knew everything, where everyone was, what they were doing, and he had to coordinate that information with every mission carried out. It sounded _exhausting_. “You ever think about taking a vacation?”

“No time for rest,” Kolivan said. “I do what needs to be done.”

And there it was. _What needs to be done_ was the point it all boiled down to. Lance tried to follow Kolivan’s lead, to remove the personal from the equation, leaving only the necessary. “I’m not going to hesitate.”

Kolivan kept his eyes on the monitor. “I believe you.”

For now, that would have to be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Hexworthy for the beta!! And thanks for the comments and kudos and etc. it means a lot!! :)

“Drop in ten,” Kolivan said, the ship hovering just where it broke through the atmosphere. The Blade of a Marmora uniform felt too thin, not enough to protect him if something went wrong with his jet pack. The Paladin armor made Lance feel secure.

When Lance didn’t answer, Kolivan left the autopilot on and got up from the pilot’s seat. “It’s time,” he said, resting a hand on Lance’s lower back as he passed him to set the timer to open the airlock. Lance felt the weight of it like a brand against his skin through the light weight armor. 

“Ready.” His voice sounded off. He wasn’t ready. He was a _liar._

The airlock opened and Lance’s feet moved without permission, sprinting down the airlock to the open door and out into a free fall. He counted down until it was safe to activate his jet pack and flew to cover. Looking skyward, the ship was long out of sight, cloaked for stealth. Kolivan would be heading to his contact, whoever and wherever that would be. He’d been tight lipped about their identity.

Lowering himself to the ground, Lance cut the power, dropping silently to a crouch. He was just outside the perimeter wall, taking cover in the dense foliage around him.

The planet Argia appeared entirely green from space, without a single body of water. The planet’s inhabitants relied on a combination of the limited underwater river system and the extreme humidity of the atmosphere. As Lance moved toward the wall, water clung to his suit and gun, and his feet slid on the soaked ground. Stealth was hardly possibly when he squelched with every footstep.

“Approaching perimeter,” he muttered into his comm. 

“ _Acknowledged._ ”

The radio silence was by the far the most jarring difference in working with Kolivan. No nervous chatter, no ribbing one another. Kolivan didn’t allow purposeless noise. It was, as he put it, counterintuitive, particularly on a stealth mission.

The perimeter wall was actually rather short, stretching only half a foot above the top of Lance’s head. Kolivan - any Galra, for that matter - would walk above it, too tall for it to serve as protection. He could only assume it was built by the natives before Galran occupation.

More troubling was the fact that it wouldn’t work as his position. He needed something higher and wider. A small building, maybe. He couldn’t get a good view on the perimeter wall and he certainly couldn’t stay out of sight on it.

Grasping the top edge of the wall, Lance pulled himself up just enough to look over it, the night vision from his mask showing him clear across the yard beyond. The security building built into the perimeter wall was at twelve o’clock from his position, the factory, a looming structure made of layers of metal and smoke stacks, was at his three. If he went across the wall, he’d be in an open area, but about thirty feet from the wall toward the factory was a small shack that almost looked like an old outhouse - storage, Lance guessed. It was taller than the wall and piled on top of it were what looked like building materials.

Perfect.

He just had to wait for the right moment. Lance adjusted his grip on the wall, glad for the suction his gloves provided. The wall was slick, too much so for a normal human to keep a grip on it. Lance wondered what the natives of Argia looked like. He kept thinking about anthropomorphic frogs. 

The guards crossing the yard disappeared into the security office. Lance wasted no time in launching himself over the wall and sprinting to the storage shack. He used his momentum to jump for the edge of the roof and hoist himself over, rolling fluidly onto his belly and pulling his rifle into position.

Too easy. _Way_ too easy. Lance’s nerves broke through the calm he’d found while planning. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe they’d known all along. Kolivan’s contact could have given them away. Kolivan could be dead already.

Lance’s hand flew to his comm, but he stopped himself. He could trust Kolivan. He _had_ to trust Kolivan. If something went wrong, he’d have found a way to warn Lance. Hand dropping back to his rifle, Lance steadied his breathing. He needed to focus. It was like Kolivan always said; Lance’s mind really _was_ his worst enemy.

“In position,” he said.

“ _Acknowledged. Proceed_.”

Lance let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. See? He told himself. Kolivan was fine.

He readjusted the timer on his comm to track the time between assuming position and the hit itself. The Blades were fanatical about tracking everything down to the last tick. Kolivan impressed the importance of timing, of learning from mistakes by going over the fine details of previous missions. Regris could get really weird about it.

The door to the security office opened. Sweat beaded up at Lance’s hairline, the back of his neck, as he watched the man from the images Kolivan showed him walked out, followed by three guards - three _living_ guards.

Lance cursed, looking through his scope. He could take out sentries after he made the hit, but living guards weren’t predictable. They could panic and scramble, which Lance preferred. Or they could be competent - send one to raise the alarm, the other two after Lance.

And then, the third option: Lance could kill them all.

His hand trembled. The humidity outside and the heat in his suit made his stomach roll. Lance shifted the butt of his rifle to rest more comfortably on his shoulder. He could do it. He had to do it.

Ten feet and the target would be in position.

Lance grit his teeth, the scope shaking against his face. It was just a body, just one more body. He could do this, and it wouldn’t change a thing.

Eight feet. Five feet.

Target in position.

Lance felt something shift, his mind taking a back seat to instinct as he locked on the target and pulled the trigger. Head shot, through and through. He breathed with the shot and shifted focus. First guard. Down. Second guard down.

The third guard stumbled and fell, scrambling on the ground in fear like an insect. 

Head shot, through and through.

Silence in the yard. Lance didn’t realize how fast his breaths were coming, almost in time with the rapid beat of his heart, until he rested the gun on the roof. His vision remained narrowed, like the scope was stuck to his eye. He’d done it. He’d eliminated the target and any complicating obstacles. 

Then the alarm sounded.

Lance pushed himself up, aligning the rifle into its holster on his back as he launched off the roof and across the yard. By the time he reached the perimeter wall he could hear shouting, the pounding of footsteps headed in his direction. He gripped the wall and pulled himself up and over, rolling over the edge to drop to his feet on the other side, sliding on the wet ground before breaking into a run.

“Target eliminated,” Lance called into the comm. “My position’s been compromised. I’m heading to you now!”

“ _Keep running_.” Kolivan’s voice was loud in his ear, a welcome comfort in the sudden overwhelming fog of adrenalin and terror. “ _Tracking your position. You’re on a dead heading to the extraction point._ ”

The sound of his own labored breathing nearly drowned out Kolivan’s voice on the communicator, informing Lance he had thirty ticks to get to the extraction zone. 

“Almost there,” Lance gasped. He could hear the roar of the ship’s engines in front of him, every bit as loud as the alarms blaring from the factory. 

“ _Keep moving._ ”

He skidded across a patch of wet fauna, losing his balance and slamming his palms against a tree to pivot back into a dead sprint. No time to slow down, had to keep moving, _almost there_ -

Lance dove headfirst into the ship, the door sliding shut a scant inch from where his feet rested. Kolivan wasted no time in taking off, Lance still sprawled out on the cold metal floor behind the cockpit. They remained silent for a few tense moments until they broke through the atmosphere and Kolivan engaged the cloaking device, allowing them to fade from view, small enough to slip past any radars.

“You completed the mission.” Kolivan broke the silence first. He didn’t turn around.

Climbing to his feet, Lance dragged himself over to the copilot’s chair, dropping into it. “I did.” His voice sounded like it came from far away.

“Your aim was impeccable.”

The compliment should have made him preen, but Lance’s brain was busy playing the moment on repeat, lining up the shot in his scope and watching the officer drop like a puppet with its strings cut. He’d been shocked at how easy it was. “That’s me,” he said dully, pulling off his mask and resting it in his lap, “best sharpshooter in the universe.”

“You don’t sound satisfied.” Kolivan turned his chair to face him, watching Lance with sharp gold eyes. “I’d like to see inside your mind right now.” The wistful note in his voice was so _un-Kolivan_ that Lance actually stayed silent for a beat, waiting for the punchline.

Then, “What good would that do?”

“You are difficult to understand,” Kolivan admitted. “My interactions with the other paladins were simpler. They had very few qualms about sharing their thoughts. You seem to fear that kind of… directness.”

Lance bristled. “I do not! I’ll have you know I am an open book! I let it all hang out!”

“Even with our minds touching, you weren’t an open book.” Kolivan shook his head, turning back to the console to adjust a setting. 

“It sounds weird when you put it like that.” Lance sunk down in his seat, furious at the flush bleeding across his cheeks. What the hell did he have to be embarrassed about? There was nothing weird going on! Kolivan just made it sound so _intimate_ , almost physical. It gave Lance palpitations that he couldn’t blame on his dwindling adrenaline rush.

“Weird? You can’t call it natural,” Kolivan pointed out. “Not for our species.”

“You make it sound like—“

“Debriefing,” Kolivan interrupted, which _what the hell?_ The guy gave Lance whiplash with the way he shifted from casual to all business!

“Um, well, I did it.” Lance let his head fall back against the seat, staring out the screen into the dark ever-reaching expanse of space. “Got into position on a storage shack. The perimeter wall was too low. I used a stack of packages, some kind of metal sheeting, as cover.”

“Time between position and shot?”

“Ah, twelve dobashes?” Lance was pretty sure. The Blade has so many rules about how to handle missions, what agents were allowed to do. Voltron missions were much more… free range, he guessed. “Anyway, he left the perimeter station and headed toward the factory. Three guards on him.”

“Not sentries?”

Lance shook his head. “Low ranking, though. Newbies, maybe. I, uh,” he blinked hard, angry when his vision blurred. “I took the shot. One hit, through the head. The guards didn’t react immediately. I decided it was better to… clean house. Took the rest out. The alarm sounded, and I went off the roof and over the perimeter. The surveillance system was disabled, so they shouldn’t have seen me.”

“We can assume success on our end. The rest is up to him.”

“Who is he?” Lance asked, running his fingers over the mask. “Anyone I know?”

“Classified.”

Of course. Lance couldn’t bring himself to argue, too worn - physically, emotionally - to do much more than melt into his seat. “What happens now?”

“We move to the next mission.”

“I don’t know how you keep this pace up.” Lance already felt like he was drowning. Coming to terms with the fact that Voltron and the lions frequently killed hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers from the empire was an unpleasant reality - but not one they really had to face. Destroying a ship was _easy_ , not something any of them dwelled on. Killing a soldier face to face? Lance hadn’t let himself think on it, and even now, speeding away from the event, it felt like something someone else had done.

“I’m used to it,” Kolivan said. “The Galra are warriors from birth. Under Zarkon, there is no choice. We fight.”

“Were you in the military?”

“I wasn’t found suitable,” Kolivan said. He unwound his braid from around his neck, letting it fall over his shoulder. The softness of it drew Lance’s gaze. He nearly missed the rest of what Kolivan said: “I was assigned to an agricultural facility on a planet conquered shortly after my birth.”

“Hold the phone,” Lance demanded, “you were a _space farmer_?!”

“Not exactly,” And there was that almost smile again, “My assignment was monitoring viability of the soil.”

“How were you not, like, some bad ass commander? You’re _the_ Blade guy! The head honcho!” 

“As I said, I was found unsuitable. Too soft.” Kolivan huffed a sound that had to be a laugh though Lance could hardly believe it. “My allegiance was never for the empire. They knew it all along.”

“That’s...incredibly difficult to picture?” A space farmer? _Too soft_? In what universe was Kolivan, leader of the Blade of Marmora, considered even a little soft? He was the hardest man Lance knew, hands down.

“It was a different lifetime,” Kolivan agreed, the smile gone. “I’ve learned what good softness does. I hope to teach you the same.” Presumably, Lance decided, without the corresponding trauma. He wanted to ask more. Even stranger, he wanted to comfort Kolivan, to put a hand on him and reassure him. He and the team were pretty physical when it came to affection, but touching Kolivan felt like crossing a line. Lance just wasn’t sure _why._

“I don’t think being soft is always a bad thing. Some people need a little squish in their lives, you know?”

“Squish,” Kolivan echoed, dragging the word out slowly as though tasting it. “I don’t, as it happens. Elaborate.”

“You know,” Lance waved his arms, still sluggish, “ _squishiness_ , like—“ He was rapidly losing the thread but there was definitely a point, what _was_ it again? “All you need is love. The Beatles,” he said. “Very wise men.” His mom thought so, anyway. One of his earliest memories was her, that song, and an early morning. Quoting song lyrics was easier than espousing real wisdom, and if the intense look Kolivan gave him was anything to go by, he thought so too.

“You have a strange way of expressing yourself,” Kolivan said after a beat of silence. “Rest now. The mission is done. We debrief with the Blades on arrival.” The moment broke at the reminder of the mission, that he would have to keep going over it. 

Lance put the mask back over his face and closed his eyes.

***

The debriefing came first, but immediately after Kolivan took him aside. “A missive came in while we were out. You’re needed.”

“Needed?” Lance was _tired._ He just wanted a nap, something to eat, and an hour to soak in the bath. 

“Voltron is responding to a distress beacon. The planet has a heavy Galra presence. They’ve requested your aide.”

Requested his aide like he was an outsider. The phrasing made Lance’s stomach squirm in discomfort. “So you’re sending me away?” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say it like that! 

“I’m not sending you away.” Kolivan reached out, his fingers brushing the place behind Lance’s ear where the linking technology would sit, sending a wave of heat cascading down Lance’s neck and coiling the length of his spine. “We have much to do, Lance. Complete your mission and contact me. The Blade will retrieve you.”

Maybe it was good he was getting away. There was obviously some kind of weird psychic feedback between he and Kolivan making Lance feel closer to him, making him afraid to be away. He had a terrible fear that he’d contact Kolivan and be turned away, the distance giving him the time to see what a waste Lance really was.

That fear, unwarranted though it might be, followed him on the trip to the castleship. It gnawed at him as he watched the small vessel manned by Antok fade into the distance, first as a speck of light, then disappearing entirely.

Hunk grabbed him before Lance could greet the team, swinging his arms around him and lifting Lance into the air.

“Ribs,” Lance wheezed. “Hunk, buddy, pull it together!”

Hunk dropped him, smiling with tears in his eyes. “Man, I’ve missed you,” he said. “It’s been so quiet! Like, I woke up to get a snack and no one was lurking in the kitchen with a flashlight to scare the piss out of me.”

“It’s been a real vacation.” Pidge slid between them, pointedly not hugging _anyone_. Lance could see her relief though, and the sight of it, of _all_ of them, did him wonders.

“You don’t have to lie to _me_ ,” he said, swinging an arm over Pidge’s shoulders. “You cried yourself to sleep at night. Stole one of my shirts and slept with it under your pillow. Don’t worry, Pidge, I under— _oof._ ” Lance doubled over as Pidge’s elbow met his stomach.

“It is good to see you, Lance.” Allura kept a respectable distance, but Lance could have basked in the warmth of her smile all day.

“Good to be back.”

“You sounded dead on your feet in that message.” Ah, Keith. That mullet was a sight for sore eyes. “Did the Blades work you too hard?”

Lance scowled. “As if! They made me an honorary member! Kolivan and I? _Totally_ BFFs. Sorry, Hunk.”

Keith rolled his eyes, knocking his shoulder against Lance’s. “I bet Kolivan couldn’t _stand_ you. What kind of training did he have you doing?” Keith’s smirk took on a teasing edge. “Mopping the base floors?”

Abruptly, Lance found himself thinking of Kolivan’s hand on the small of his back, the feel of his clawed fingers brushing gently against the skin of his neck. He turned red, his mouth clicking shut.

Keith frowned. “Lance?”

A loud, awkward laugh. Lance cringed inwardly at the sound. “Very funny, man. It was all, you know, top secret. _Classified._ ” Lance hurried past them with the excuse of being starving and headed toward the kitchen. What the hell was wrong with him?

He just needed to rest, to have a little alone time to separate himself from Kolivan and his experiences with the Blade of Marmora. But going to the kitchen didn’t give him that. Oh no, it gave him the _opposite_ of that.

Everyone followed him like he was some kind of sideshow attraction. “I don’t see why you can’t tell us anything,” Allura finally said, seated across from Lance and watching him inhale leftovers from whatever Hunk had cooked the night before. “It’s our mission as well. Anything you do, we should be privy to.”

“It was a joke.” Lance put down his spoon. “All we did was train. Like, seriously, I am exhausted.”

“Will you have to go back?” Pidge asked, resting her chin on her folded arms. She looked tired. Lance wasn’t sure what time it was. The Blade clearly didn’t follow the paladins’ schedule.

“Yeah, after we do this thing,” he waved his spoon, gesturing at all of them. “So what’s the deal? Evil Galra? Damsels in distress?”

“We aren’t sure. Coran is trying to get a clearer location for the signal, but the planet it’s coming from is actually not a planet. It’s a moon, one revolving around a Galran stronghold. I wasn’t aware of life on its surface, but the signal is strong.”

Well, that sounded like a trap. “We leave in the morning,” Keith said.

“You look so tired, Lance. I know you want to catch up with the team, but do get a good rest tonight. Voltron depends on it.”

“No pressure?” Lance laughed at the dip in Allura’s brow. “Just kidding! I’m beat anyway. Think I’ll go ahead and crash.” He pushed away from the table and stood, saying his goodnights.

There was no doubt that he missed the team because he _did_ , like a missing limb. Having them out of reach was unexpectedly painful, the same deep ache he’d felt when he left his parents and siblings for the Garrison. But even so, Lance found himself unable to relax until he was in his room with the door shut.

The team could never know.

He hadn’t intentionally lied to them, not really. Not at first. But they kept asking. What if he’d told them?

_I killed three men,_ he would have said. _One of them was terrified. He was on the ground trying to escape and I shot him in the head._

He could never admit to that.

Lance fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning for several vargas before finally settling. He dreamed of a heavy weight pressing him into the bed, harder and harder, until he couldn’t breathe. Kolivan was in bed with him, naked skin pressed up along Lance’s side. He kept struggling under the weight, hoping Kolivan would notice, and just as he was about to give up and accept his death, the scene changed. He was sitting in the kitchen in the castleship. Kolivan was with him, still naked, and _damn._ He was speaking to Allura about something, but it was all gibberish. His hand was on the small of Lance’s back.

“ _Goooooooooood morning, Paladins!_ ” Lance snapped awake at the sound of Coran’s voice. “ _We’ll be departing in one varga, so rise and shine, as you humans say! I can’t imagine why… Bioluminescence isn’t one of your talents_.”

Lance flailed around in his sheets before finally managing to sit up and get his bearings. “What the hell?” Raking a hand through his hair, he tried to recall his dream but found it rapidly fading, the only lasting image of a very naked Kolivan. Rubbing at his eyes, Lance climbed to his feet, feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all.

***

The black lion chose Keith.

Had it been so long? Had so much happened? The black lion chose Keith and as a result, Lance was thrown into a game of musical lions with Allura. Now _he_ was the red lion. No one said anything beforehand, just tossed that little factoid into the ten minute briefing before they left. None of them wanted to look him in the eye. Lance didn’t understand - not the team’s guilt or his own flash fire rage at the thought of taking orders from Keith. He was over that pettiness, wasn’t he? He understood that the mission was what mattered, not the individual. Hadn’t he made sacrifices already?

“ _We’re taking rapid fire,_ ” Hunk’s voice crackled across the comms. “ _They’re everywhere!_ ”

“ _Keep shooting_ ,” were Keith’s orders. “ _We have to stall for time until Pidge gets the data._ ”

“ _I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up!_ ” Allura. Lance felt for her, understood her frustration at feeling like she fell short of the others on an intimate level.

The mission was a wash. The distress beacon was a small rebel group surrounded by Galra, unable to keep up, their leader held prisoner in the opposing military base. For Pidge, it was a chance at finding information about her family. For all of them, it was a possible lead on Shiro.

Lance knew what was coming, knew before Keith ever ordered them to form Voltron when Pidge got out of the base safely. The undercurrent of fear only grew stronger. Voltron was an experience not unlike the linking technology; it wasn’t as precise, but the pilots shared emotions and experiences. Pain was shared. 

Lance didn’t want that connection, not with the terrible weight of those three lives hanging around his neck.

_The mission comes first,_ he reminded himself, red echoing the sentiment with a roar. Voltron tugged at his mind as the lions flew in tandem, the magic that connected them rising higher and higher. And then - 

“ _Something’s wrong._ ” Allura’s voice shook. “ _It’s not working!_ ”

A cold dread grew in Lance.

Keith cursed. “ _We need to get the rebels out of here. Try again!_ ”

They tried and failed. Lance felt the sweat running down his neck, a sick anxiousness rising in him. It was his fault. It was _all_ his fault.

“ _We can fit them in the lions, but we’ll have to take turns covering each other. Red is fastest_.” A silence. “ _Lance?_ ”

“Right,” Lance stammered. “I’ll go first, then I’ll cover you guys.”

They managed to get the rebels out, but their base was gone, all their supplies, everything. The moon was lost to the Galra. They took the rebels back to the castleship and made an immediate wormhole jump to escape the fleet tracking them from the battle.

Lance let his group out but opted to stay in red, saying that he needed to familiarize himself with the controls. When the door closed behind them, Lance pulled off his helmet and rubbed the tears from his eyes. He shifted the comms to a private channel.

“The mission is over,” he said to silence. “Come get me.” The silence extended. He had no way of knowing if the Blade of Marmora received it. Responding to such missives was not allowed from the base, but God, all Lance wanted was to hear something, _anything._ Kolivan would understand. He would make Lance see that everything was all right. 

The silence continued. Taking a shaky breath, Lance resigned himself to more nothing and reached up to switch off the comms.

Then, quiet, “ _Acknowledged_ ,” before the comm channel closed, switching to static.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Hexworthy for the beta!!! And thanks for all the comments and kudos and all!! You guys are so nice ;u;

“Try to send us messages more.” Allura was actually _holding his hands_. “We worry when you’re gone, Lance.” She still hadn’t let go. Lance didn’t realize how much larger her hands were than his, how tall she stood. He had to look up to meet her eyes. It reminded him of Kolivan.

Lance stepped away. “Got it, no extended radio silence. Can’t have my groupies going through withdrawal!” 

Allura’s smile lost a little of its warmth. “Lance… just come back safely.”

“Can’t form Voltron without you, number three,” Coran added, winking at Lance over Allura’s shoulder.

Lance wondered if that were actually true.

He said his goodbyes, careful not to create too solemn of a moment. He didn’t want them to hurt in his absence. He’d just as well deal with that pain alone.

The ship the Blade sent was one of their standard. Whoever piloted it - Antok, he would guess, his usual escort - did not step out or greet the paladins in any way, instead simply opening the hatch to allow Lance to board. Antok usually disembarked and stood silently by the opening, arms crossed over his chest and tail twitching behind him like an angry cat. Lance boarded the ship alone, his heart picking up the pace when the hatch closed behind him.

Maybe it was Kolivan.

The leader playing chauffeur was unheard of as far as Lance knew. He was a busy guy, had _way_ too much to keep on top of to fly out just for Lance. And yet -

When Lance called for him, he’d responded, flouting his own rules. Kolivan was his friend - of that, Lance was certain. And of greater certainty was the fact that he desperately wanted to see Kolivan, to be alone with him for the two vargas trip back to base. He wanted to tell him everything and be comforted by him in that stilted manner. He could feel the ghost of Kolivan’s hand on his shoulder or stroking behind his ear. 

Lance stepped into the cockpit, trying to swallow around the pounding of his heart.

“Hurry up and buckle in.” Regris sat in the pilot’s seat, his mask firmly in place but the unique pattern on his tail giving him away. “We’re short on time.”

Lance’s heartbeat slowed so fast he thought he’d pass out. Stumbling, he caught himself on the wall, then went to take his seat next to Regris.

“What,” Lance jokes, “no Antok? And here I thought we had something.”

“Antok was injured.” Regris said, curt. “I’d like to get back before he dies so if you would kindly buckle in?”

Lance’s emotions did something complicated, something he couldn’t name. There was a blend of Kolivan-longing-Antok-fear-disappointment-anger whipping around in his head and heart. His fingers shook when he buckled himself in.

Regris wasted no time in blasting out of the hangar, jumping into a slipstream. Neither of them spoke for several dobashes, the atmosphere heavy with anxious anticipation. Regris broke first. “You’re not in uniform.” 

No, Lance wasn’t. He wasn’t even in his flight suit. Both uniforms were in the bag slung over the back of his seat. “I didn’t want the team to see me in it,” admitted. Wearing the Blade uniform in front of them felt one step away from admitting what he did the last time he wore it.

“Our leader would prefer you in it,” Regris said, tone bland. “At least while you’re working with us.”

There was something to that, some layer Lance didn’t have the context to understand. His mouth twisted. “Think I’m just going to catch a few z’s before we get there. I’ll change on base.”

Regris didn’t argue with him, going silent as he tapped something on the screen. Lance faded in and out of sleep until he felt a pressure on his shoulder: Regris’ tail.

“We’re here.” His companion didn’t stick around after that. Lance had never seen Regris in such a hurry before.

He followed suit, grabbing his duffel and following Regris out of the ship. The landing pad usually had a few Blades around, mostly mechanics working on damaged ships or unloading supplies. This time, the place was dead silent.

Not bothering to stop by his room, he headed straight for medical. He could hear Ifiok speaking just beyond the door, stepping through with trepidation.

Antok was in one of the healing pods, his face obscured by thick plumes of yellow smoke. Lance couldn’t make out any obvious injuries, but he _could_ see restraints.

“He looks good,” Regris said, startling Lance. “Doesn’t he? Now, anyway.” His tail whipped back and forth around his ankles. “He was crushed. A robeast. I’ve never seen one like that.”

“They’ve all been pretty big when Voltron fought them.” Lance couldn’t look away from Antok. Crushed? Like, all his bones broken? He winced in sympathy.

“Not big,” Regris said. “It wasn’t much bigger than Antok. But its power…” He shook his head. “The witch is experimenting.”

“He’s lucky I was able to reset all his bones.” Ifiok stood on the opposite end of the medical room, monitoring Antok’s vitals on one of the screens built into the wall. “I still may have to rebreak and reset his legs.”

“And on that frightening note, I’m out of here.” Lance was _not_ watching that. He’d seen a leg break heal incorrectly and have to be reset before back home in Cuba. He’d never forget the sight. “Where’s Kolivan? I wanted to talk to him.”

Ifiok and Regris traded looks. What the hell was up with that?

“He’s around,” Ifiok said. “He’ll probably find you.”

“I’ll go knock on his door,” Lance decided.

“You’ve been to his quarters?” Regris asked casually, still looking at Ifiok.

“Well, yeah,” Lance said, confused. “Where else would we train?”

“The training room?” Ifiok suggested.

“Kolivan said we needed quiet to adapt to the,” Lance gestured to his head. “You know. He said—“

“I’ll bet he did,” Ifiok muttered. Regris slapped him with his tail.

“Ignore this old man.” Regris said cocking his head at Ifiok. “Go to Kolivan’s quarters. He’ll probably want to start training with you right away.”

Lance figured as much. He left the medical room, the doors sliding shut behind him, but not before he heard what sounded like Regris wheezing. Poor guy was probably taking Antok’s injury harder than he wanted to admit. 

He followed the familiar path to Kolivan’s room, amazed at how well he knew the base. That first day, he’d thought it a maze. Now it felt like home.

Kolivan didn’t answer when he knocked, but Lance knew the passcode. He probably _shouldn’t,_ but he’d seen it enough. A few quick raps and the door appeared, opening for him. Lance stepped inside, thrown for a loop at how dark it was. Until he realized Kolivan was sleeping.

Had been sleeping, actually, because the moment the door opened, Kolivan shot up in bed, his knife already in his hand. Lance stepped back, his hands up in surrender.

“Kolivan.” Why did he sound like that? His voice went soft, cajoling. Kolivan woke full at the sound of it. He stood, pushing the blanket aside.

He was very, _very_ naked.

“You’re back.” Kolivan looked him over as though searching for something. Then he nodded and reached down to grab a robe he’d left folded at the head of his bed. “You look well.”

“You too,” Lance said, faint. Kolivan was _hung._ “Do you have to put that on?” His eyes stayed glued to his cock, hanging soft between his legs, large and ridged and a deep blue, a crest of white hair at the crown of it. 

Kolivan frowned. “What do you mean?”

What did he mean? Lance was appalled at the bullshit coming out of his mouth. “Nothing,” he said quickly, forcing his gaze to Kolivan’s puzzled expression. “I’m just… glad to see you.”

“It was strange,” Kolivan admitted. He pulled the robe on, closing it around his body. “I felt your absence. It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.” Lance was so tired. “I feel like nothing went right. I screwed up.” So badly. 

“The mission failed?”

Lance hesitated. “It wasn’t a _complete_ success. We achieved the main objective but lost the rebel base.” Could the conversation get anymore surreal? Lance was basically whining to Kolivan while the man stood in his bathrobe. “Anyway,” he cut himself off, “I’m not going to bother you with this. Sorry I woke you, Kolivan.” He turned, one hand on the doorframe. “We’ll catch up later.”

“I’ll come find you,” Kolivan said. Then, “Lance.”

“Yeah?” He turned around.

“No,” Kolivan shook his head, turning away. “It’s nothing. Go rest, acclimate yourself. Training begins in one varga.”

And there it was, the emotional whiplash. Lance had the presence of mind not to roll his eyes, saluting at Kolivan before leaving.

***

The linking tech snapped comfortably back into place. Lance felt Kolivan’s mind brush against his own, a relieving balm against the cracks left in him. The downside, of course, was that Kolivan sought after those cracks, his mind slithering in and seeing everything in detail. Lance didn’t stop him.

“You blame yourself.”

“I didn’t _want_ to form Voltron.” Even now, admitting it felt wrong, left a sick, sinking sensation in his gut he couldn’t escape. “I thought, you know, they’d _see._ They’d know, and I just—I didn’t want it.”

Kolivan watched him, impassive, his mind having withdrawn from Lance. Lance itches to chase it, to peel apart his thoughts and _know_. “It was a failure,” Kolivan began. “Not necessarily your own.”

Lance laughed, bitter. “How?” he asked, throwing his arms open. “How was this not on me?”

“A new lion, a new pilot,” Kolivan numbered them on his fingers. “Your insecurities were no doubt a factor, but this was not a singular event. Lance, you didn’t fail. _Voltron_ failed.” 

Something in Lance squirmed, even less comfortable with that assessment. “I don’t know…”

“But,” Kolivan interrupted, “you _will_ continue to contribute to the instability if you don’t manage your emotions. Voltron is vital for bringing down the empire. Your mind is holding you back.”

“Yeah, yeah, my own worst enemy.” Lance deflated. His mind was _definitely_ not a happy place to be right then, and he didn’t want Kolivan to see it.

“Then push me out,” Kolivan advised. “That is why we’re here.”

Point. Lance shrouded his mind with the dampener, his thoughts quieting, pulling out of reach. It was almost physical, like using a muscle he’d never trained much, straining. When he finally gave, Lance dropped his palms to the floor, panting and sweating.

“Well done.” Kolivan’s voice sounded so loud… but then Lance realized he hadn’t spoken. He’d placed the words directly into Lance’s mind.

_Thanks_ , he returned, watching Kolivan carefully - and there it was, that almost smile.

They’d never projected words, just images and sensations. It was a new level of telepathic connection. The dampening remained difficult, a constant struggle, but communication between their minds seemed stronger than ever.

Lance fell back in step with training and life at the base with little fanfare, days passing as though his break with Voltron had never happened. It was easier to think that way. He sent messages every day he could and enjoyed the replies he received, his friends’ faced on the vid screen soothing him. He and Kolivan never removed the dampeners or the linking tech, and eventually, even that became natural.

*** 

“You worry too much.” Kolivan’s face was close, surprisingly so. Lance could feel his breath against his face. 

“I do?” Lance’s brain flatlined. 

Kolivan cupped Lance’s face with one large hand which, woah, what the _hell_. “You do.” Something was clearly off because why else would Kolivan be leaning in like that and - 

_Oh._

Kolivan’s mouth pressed against his own, chaste until he swiped Lance’s lips with his tongue. Lance opened to him without question, shaking hands coming to rest on Kolivan’s shoulders.

They were in bed - when had that happened? - and Kolivan rolled over Lance, pressing his body against the mattress. The pressure felt _amazing_ , Kolivan’s hands rough all over him, and his cock hard against Lance, feeling even bigger than it looked. That was it. Lance was done, could die happy—

A jerk pulled him half off the bed. Lance’s upper body went sprawling onto the floor, his legs tanking with the sheets when he flailed out in panic. “What? What’s happened? I’m awake!”

Kolivan stood over him, silent. Lance couldn’t read him at all. 

And then it hit him. He’d been in bed. Asleep. Having an _incredibly vivid sex dream_ about _Kolivan_. Tentative hands sought the metal pieces resting comfortably on his head, linking them together. Still in place.

Just kill him now.

Lance managed to pull himself upright on the bed again but meeting Kolivan’s intense gaze was another story. “Hey man,” he said, voice wobbling. “Uh, what’s up?”

At first, Kolivan didn’t speak. If Lance were a braver man, he’d reach out through the link and feel for Kolivan’s emotions, but something in him recoiled at the thought. He didn’t need to feel Kolivan’s disgust or pity or whatever else might be glueing him to the spot, silent and still as a statue.

“The mission.” Kolivan broke the silence. There was a space between them that Lance couldn’t help but feel was deliberate. “It’s time. We’ll be leaving in thirty dobashes. Debriefing en route.” Kolivan reached down and pulled the linking tech off Lance, leaving the dampener behind. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” And without another word, he turned and left.

If Lance had been shamefully hard when Kolivan woke him up, his dick had run in the opposite direction at the Blade’s curt behavior, softening to the point of shriveling.

“Okay.” Lance breathed deep, in and out, and ran a hand through his hair. “I can fix this.” He stared at the door, willing it to reappear and open, for Kolivan to return. Neither happened. Lance remained alone, the timer ticking down to departure. 

Fuck.

The shuttle they planned to take to Y’tark had been packed for as long as Lance had been with the Blades, ready to leave without notice. Lance knew he should hurry to it, that time wasted could only hinder them, but he still dragged his feet, afraid to face Kolivan. What if he refused to speak to Lance? For all Lance knew, he could have totally dishonored the guy. The Blades were weird about things like honor. What if they had some elaborate ritual to discipline Lance for his wrongdoings?

Lance’s traitorous mind, still stuck on the dream and his inability to get relief, took great interest in the whole ritual discipline idea and supplied him with corresponding imagery.

“Down, boy,” Lance muttered to himself. This was going to be a disaster. The mission would fail, he and Kolivan would probably die, and for what? Because his brain took backseat to his dick. 

Antok was in the hangar when Lance finally dragged himself in, tapping away at a console. “You’re late.”

“I have at _least_ five dobashes,” Lance scoffed, though he couldn’t help the grin that stole across his face at seeing Antok on his feet. “Maybe even ten!”

“You should have come directly here. Kolivan is on board.” Antok whacked Lance with his tail. “He looked… irritated.” He said it slowly, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept which, come on. Kolivan was irritated about eighty percent of the time.

But specifically, right now, at Lance? 

“Great. Guess I’ll just,” he waved at the ship.

Antok gripped his shoulder. “You are one of us now. Remember: knowledge or death.”

Lance returned the grip, though he had to get up on his toes. “Right back at you, buddy. Try to stay in one piece while we’re gone.”

But his confidence wavered upon actually hoarding the ship. The door closed behind him, closing him off from Antok and the base. At the end of the airlock, he’d be in the cockpit with Kolivan until they arrived on Y’tark. And the entire time, his stupid libido-driven dream would hang over him. 

He crossed the other end of the airlock, and it sealed behind him. “All ready to ride?”

“I’ve been ready for fifteen dobashes,” Kolivan said. “Strap in.”

_That_ didn’t bode well.

Lance hurried into his seat, his stomach bottoming out. Kolivan has pulled the rug out from under his feet, leaving him floundering. Should he apologize or would Kolivan prefer he didn’t acknowledge it? They’d clearly both experienced the dream. 

“I’m ready to go now,” he said, voice quiet. He’d never felt like he was on unsteady ground around Kolivan. Now, with how closed off he was and being unable to feel anything from Kolivan’s mind, Lance felt as though he was in the presence of a stranger.

Kolivan finally looked at him after they’d taken off and flew into a slipstream. “We’ll be in flight for two quintaints. Once we arrive on Y’tark, we’ll have a window of two movements before the Emperor Regent is in a public enough place to strike.”

That sounded like a long time to be waiting - and that’s what they’d be doing, Lance had no doubt. “Guess we’ll have a lot of down time to go sightseeing!”

Kolivan didn’t laugh. “We’ll meet my contact on arrival,” he continued as if Lance hadn’t said a word. “After we get the intel, we’ll go to ground.” He sounded like he was reading a mission briefing, nothing behind it. 

Lance couldn’t stand it.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. Kolivan looked over but he couldn’t stop, had to get the words out. “I made you—uncomfortable. Right? I didn’t mean to, so don’t—“ _Don’t write me off,_ he wanted to say. Lance didn’t understand himself how he felt about Kolivan. He liked him, wanted to be around him, and had a probably unhealthy fixation on his dick.

Kolivan’s hands flexed on the controls. Silence reigned for a long moment. Lance was just beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t be less painful to throw himself out the airlock when Kolivan spoke. “Your apology is unnecessary. I was… surprised.”

“Surprised,” Lance repeated, dubious.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Kolivan let go of the controls and made an aborted reaching movement but didn’t follow through. 

“Okay.” That was as good as he’d get, Lance figured. If Kolivan would touch him, just one more time, he’d be satisfied with that much.

It would be a long two quintaints.

***

The awkwardness between them dissolved by the time they reached Y’tark. When they prepared to breach the atmosphere, Kolivan touched Lance - just on the arm! But it felt like a brush with a live wire, rippling through Lance. He’d gone red, embarrassingly so, but Kolivan didn’t comment on it.

They dropped through the atmosphere, tension picking up. If they were going to be noticed, this was it.

But they dropped lower and lower, the ship’s cloaking hiding them from view. Lance kept his eyes on the radar, looking for any signs of attack, but they successfully made it to the ground, the ship taking cover miles out from the capital in an abandoned mineshaft. It connected to the main mines underneath the capital but were treacherous due to cave ins and toxic waste. No one would be searching for them there. Hell, Lance was pretty sure just standing in that section of the mine shaved a few years off his life.

“We’ll be meeting my contact here,” Kolivan said, leading Lance deeper into the mines toward the capital. He sent me coordinates for the rendezvous point.”

“So he’s got some info for us.” Lance said. “Awesome. Think he knows how to dodge the psychics?”

“He’s been successful so far.” 

Considering the guy was still alive, yeah, Lance couldn’t argue. 

They walked for a full varga before Kolivan signaled someone was up ahead, fixing his mask in place. Lance followed suite, quieting his steps as they moved forward.

“Kolivan.” The contact had a deep voice, the sound echoing in the mine. “You’re late.”

“We’re here now,” Kolivan returned, moving closer and gesturing for Lance to follow. “Are you alone?”

“I am.” The Y’tarkian was a massive man with deep red skin and tiny insect-like eyes, black and beady. He dressed in heavy layered clothing, a wrap covering the top of his head. “The Emperor is giving a public address. Time window is two weeks but I can give you thirty vargas notice.”

Kolivan nodded like he’d expected as much. “Security?”

The Y’tarkian shrugged. “The usual. A battle cruiser is about two quintaints out from Y’tark. Nothing unusual.”

“I need details, Kyn. The Ylkans’ abilities. Have you found your weapon?”

Kyn scowled. “We’ve managed. You’re the ones who will need to worry. You’ll be in range most of the time.”

“Range?” Lance asked. 

Kyn looked him up and down. “You’re small for a Blade,” he said. “The Ylkans have a range of about ten paces. Depending on how powerful they are it can stretch to twenty but that’s rare.” Lance didn’t think that sounded nearly as bad as he’d expected, but Kyn continued. “No, the problem is Emperor Runit. The Galra gave him an amplifier, one that boosts his range. He could reach the ruins of Daibazaal if he wanted with that!”

Okay, that sounded bad. “Why just Runit?”

“The Galra fear the Ylkans,” Kolivan filled in. “They wouldn’t want to arm them any more than that.”

Kyn nodded. “They don’t trust each other. They just cooperate.”

With a range like that, Lance and Kolivan wouldn’t be safe anywhere without the dampeners. They might not be safe _with_ them.

Kyn reaches over his shoulder and pulled off what looked like two sacks that had apparently been suctioned to his back. He tossed them to Kolivan. “You’ll need these. Clothes and a few other things, just to blend in. You’ll have safe passage through the mines but once you surface we can’t do much for you.”

Kolivan held the bags in one fist. “We’ll manage. You have my thanks, Kyn.”

“And you’ll have mine when the job is done,” Kyn returned. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. Having said all he wanted to say, Kyn turned and walked deeper into the mine.

“The emperor’s range is _crazy_ ,” Lance said. Kolivan turned and waved him after him, heading for the ship. Lance hurried after him. “How are we supposed to deal with that on top of everything else?”

“We will,” Kolivan said. “There isn’t a choice in the matter.”

“These dampeners better work.” Lance would never get a shot in otherwise. Not only would they be sitting ducks, they’d be _dead_ sitting ducks - the word kind.

“Don’t let your mind wander,” Kolivan advised, sticking close to Lance as they traced their steps back to the ship. “They’ll find any weaknesses. Keep yourself steady.”

Lance tried - of course he did. But as he followed Kolivan, his attention on the broad expanse of his back, Lance was struck by the feeling that something had already gone wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Hexworthy for the beta read and to hypotheticalwoman for helping me with some tricky plot stuff!! And thanks for all the comments and kudos and all :)
> 
> Please be aware of the new tag! I prefer to add as things come up.

The mines reeked something awful. Every morning Lance woke with a nose full of something that smelled like bug spray or toilet cleaner. By the second morning, he figured he was probably moving toward permanent brain damage.

“The masks filter out airborne toxins,” was all Kolivan had to say on the matter - and that meant that whenever they were in the mines, they were confined to the full Blade uniform. Though the ship’s readings didn’t indicate any airborne toxins, Kolivan was nothing if not thorough.

Either way, Lance was dying.

“Any movement?” Lance asked, leaning over the back of Kolivan’s seat.

Kolivan shook his head. “The time of the address hasn’t been announced. They likely won’t give much notice.”

“Kyn said at least a quintaint, right?”

“He’s being optimistic.” Oh, _great_. Kolivan turned in his seat, looking up at Lance. With the mask on, Lance had no idea what he was thinking. “You’re hovering. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Something’s wrong,” Lance said at once. “I feel like it’s too late to stop it, too.”

“Your nerves. There’s a great deal riding on this mission. Don’t let your insecurities get in your way.”

That was all well and good but Lance could _feel_ something wasn’t right. He’d spent the last two days they’d been shut into the ship trying to convince Kolivan. Even after Kyn’s rebels sent them a message confirming the cameras and the bombs were set up in the capital, Lance still wasn’t comforted. Watching them wasn’t enough.

The low-tech transmitter the rebels used lit up where it sat on the console, a sheet of paper covered in dots and dashes rolling out of the mouth of it. At first, the sight was exciting. Morse code! In space! Something Lance could read! But it was actually a different code written in the Y’tarkians’ native language and translated to something else. Kolivan could read it, of course, but all Lance could do was stand over him and wait.

“Is it time?”

“Not yet,” Kolivan said after a moment, his frown deepening. “But there’s been an unexpected arrival. Another battle cruiser. They’re amping up security.”

Damn. “Do they suspect an attack?” If a group of psychics anticipated an attack, Lance figured it wouldn’t be easy to slip past them.

“It’s difficult to tell. I assume they expect action from the Y’tarkians, and that could work in our favor.”

“We’d be asking a lot.” Lance chewed his lip, thinking. “For the full focus to be on them—if something goes wrong, they’d take the brunt of any counterattack.”

“They’re prepared to die.” 

“I don’t get how you can be so cold about _real, actual lives_ being at stake!” Lance pushed away from Kolivan’s chair, pacing in the small open area of the cockpit. “We’re responsible for what happens to them. The moment we took this mission—“

“They would rather die than continue as they are,” Kolivan interrupted. He didn’t turn toward Lance, but Lance had no doubt he had Kolivan’s full attention. The ship was stiflingly hot. His body felt like it was cooking in his uniform, his face sticky and greasy inside his mask. He’d kill for a shower—for a bed, for some space to stretch out and move. His temper ran high, egged on by the feeling of being trapped, of his own helplessness. The waiting was the worst part of it.

But Kolivan stayed so calm, always collected and levelheaded. It was infuriating.

“How can you be so sure?” Lance asked. He stopped pacing.

“I would know better than anyone,” Kolivan said. He didn’t elaborate.

The fourth quintaint came with news, though whether it was good news or bad news remained up for debate. The emperor regent, it was announced, would be addressing all of Y’tark the following quintaint. Early morning. 

Lance’s anxiety crept up on him with the closing window of opportunity. He was afraid of killing again and just as afraid of failing. He was afraid of making a mistake. He wanted certainty from Kolivan, a reassurance that he wasn’t a bad person, but at the same time, his reassurances infuriated Lance.

“If this goes wrong,” Lance began on the morning of the emperor’s address.

“Leave me and run,” Kolivan interrupted. “If the mission fails, escape.”

“I can’t leave you,” Lance argued. “I couldn’t leave a friend behind!” He couldn’t imagine a world where he’d be capable of something so callous - but a few months ago he couldn’t picture a world without Shiro. A world where he was a murderer. A world _with_ Kolivan.

Kolivan grabbed his wrist, dropping the most recent report from Kyn. “I won’t see you fail.” 

Lance jerked away and slammed his hand down on the computer. He opened his mouth, intent on shouting something, but a horrible shrieking sound stopped him dead. He grabbed his head, yelling at the shock of pain and felt Kolivan do the same, felt his alarm.

_Kolivan’s_ alarm?

They jerked away from each other, the shrieking dying down to nothing. “Did you feel that?” Lance whispered.

Kolivan shook his head like it would rid him of the pain. “I did,” he admitted. “But not anymore.”

“What _was_ that?”

“Some kind of feedback,” Kolivan guessed. “I could feel your mind for a few ticks.” He grabbed the report he’d dropped but kept his attention on Lance. “Are you all right?”

Lance ignored the question. “These things are supposed to do the opposite of that! How are we going to get through this if the tech is broadcasting!”

“I don’t believe that’s the case,” Kolivan said slowly, frowning. “The tech _was_ based off the linking technology created by the Alteans, and the testing done was...unfortunately limited.”

“That makes me feel _so_ much better.”

“They operate on the same wavelength. It’s possible that interference can create the feedback we experienced. But at this point, I can only guess.”

That wasn’t especially reassuring, but it _did_ give Lance something to worry about that wasn’t his own shortcomings. “A little late to worry about it now,” he muttered.

Kolivan gave him a half smile. “Too right. For now, let’s focus.” He grabbed the bags Kyn gave them and tossed one to Lance. “We have work to do.”

***

Kolivan blended in well, but Lance could still spot him from his perch. Thankfully the Y’tarkians were tall as hell, otherwise they’d have a problem. Kolivan wore a hood, dressed down in the sooty layered clothing of a miner. His braid was wrapped around his neck and hidden beneath a wrapped cloth. Lance watched him get into position through the scope of his rifle, moving through the crowd with ease toward the platform. 

He wanted to speak to Kolivan, but the Blade made it clear that they were to maintain complete radio silence. Every last ounce of energy went into holding onto the protection provided by the dampeners.

Even with the dampener, Lance could feel the force of the psychics crowding into the capital. According to Kyn, their range and abilities weren’t terribly impressive on their own, but with a group this size? It wouldn’t take much to subdue a single assassin. He concentrated on keeping his mind smooth and reflective, letting the psychic energy around him roll off the surface, hearing nothing and taking nothing. He focused on his breath, on the feeling of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck.

The Galra that walked onto the platform wasn’t a man Lance recognized. He spoke over the roar of the crowd, announcing the Emperor Regent, but his words were lost on Lance.

His attention fell on the two druids walking sedately behind Emperor Runit.

“Fuck,” he muttered, keeping them in view of his scope. Nobody said anything about druids being on Y’tark! He quickly moved the scope to Kolivan and saw the way his eyes narrowed. Kolivan hadn’t expected it either.

The Galra presence wasn’t much. The battle cruiser never broke through the atmosphere, instead flying in close enough range to send a pod out carrying the commander, four sentries - and apparently the two druids. The Galras fear of the Ylkans worked in the rebels’ favor. The battle cruiser left immediately upon sending the pod out. 

On stage, the commander stood aside, gesturing Runit to the forefront. The druids remained a few paces behind him. 

It was now or never.

With a druid presence to contend with, Lance knew he couldn’t waste time. He got Runit in his sight, took a deep breath, tensed his finger on the trigger--

Lance took the shot.

Several things happened at once: though his scope, Lance watch the bullet hit home, piercing through Runit’s skull at the exact point the implant sat, just below his blocky shaped ear. The Emperor dropped with a dull thud. The commander began waving his gun, screaming, and the crowd went wild.

An explosion went off in the distance, rumbling the earth. Lance recognized it as the processing plant just north of the mines. A second explosion went off right after: the capitol building. The sentries fanned out only to be shot down. Lance didn’t miss a beat. All four of them crumbled. The rebels could be heard in the distance, pouring out of the mines and into the streets, taking advantage of the chaos. It was actually working! The planet was going to be free! Elated, Lance swung his scope around to find Kolivan. Just as he got him in his sights, Lance saw the druids move. Within the space of a tick, they were on Kolivan. How had they known? 

Kolivan didn’t fight them. Instead, he went limp and dropped.

Lance scrambled up, vaulting off the roof and dropping into a dead run. _Not Kolivan_ , he thought, fear souring his gut. _Please, God, don’t let him die--_

But just as suddenly, a piercing screech, like nails on a chalkboard, rang through Lance’s mind, echoing inside the confines of his skull. Lance dropped to his knees, grabbing both sides of his head and clenching his jaw. It was the feedback from before. That’s what Kolivan called it. Some kind of psychic feedback.

He waited for it to end, and just like before it came to a sudden halt, leaving him disoriented. But in its place an odd pressure remained. Lance stumbled upright, running unsteadily toward Kolivan, too focused to give it further thought.

One of the druids was down, Kolivan’s blade jutting out of its forehead, the blade glowing a brilliant purple. Lance knew he couldn’t take the remaining druid on in a direct attack, so he slipped between two buildings, aiming carefully. Without hesitation, he made his third kill.

Maybe Kolivan was right. Maybe it _did_ get easier.

He stumbled over to Kolivan, ready to carry him out of there if need be, but he was already getting to his feet, recovered. 

“We have to get out of here,” Lance yelled over the chaos around them. He grabbed Kolivan’s wrist. “Come on!” When he touched him, something went off between them like a spark. He felt a rush of confusion but brushed it aside, tugging Kolivan behind him.

By the time they reached the city gates, Lance knew something was very wrong.

He could see himself running in his mind’s eye, could feel an ache in his side where Kolivan had taken a hit. But he hadn’t seen Kolivan take a hit. How could he know that? 

They hadn’t quite made it to the mineshaft before he realized it: those weren’t his feelings and sensations. They were Kolivan’s.

He whipped around, eyes wide, and saw his own confusion reflected back at him. “Something’s wrong…”

Kolivan pushed him forward. “We have to keep moving.” There was an urgency in him that at first Lance didn’t understand. But the further they went, the clearer it became. The confusion from before faded, lost in a syrupy feeling, a heat that Lance didn’t understand. His body felt slow and clumsy as they made their way through the mine toward the ship. Kolivan was walking so close to him they were practically standing on top of each other. Kolivan’s hands were on him--on his waist, keeping his back pressed to Kolivan’s front. He could feel Kolivan growing hard against him and the echo of his arousal keen in Lance’s mind. A feedback loop, he realized. They were caught in a feedback loop.

Fear and pain, he expected. But the shock of arousal, the need to grab at each other, to feel the heat of Kolivan’s body pressed against his own, none of that made sense to Lance.

“The ship,” he said, stumbling as Kolivan grabbed at him. They had to stop and lean against the wall of the mine, groping at each other. Lance’s mouth went dry. “We have to get to the ship!”

Kolivan shoved him away, stumbling and ungainly for the first time since Lance had met him. But just as soon as they separated he was back on Lance, afraid to let go of him.

How they made it to the ship was a mystery to Lance. He couldn’t get the door open, couldn’t focus to put the code in because Kolivan was licking into his mouth, biting at his lips. He reached around Lance and punched in the code, unable to fully pull away.

Kolivan’s hands were everywhere, pulling at Lance’s suit. They’d both lost their weapons the moment the airlock closed behind them. Lance had the presence of mind to turn on the life support systems, but he was quickly lost beneath the tide of heat and lust pouring off Kolivan. 

He pinned Lance against the console, plastering the full length of his body against Lance’s back, stooping to mouth at his neck, all sharp teeth and wet kisses. Lance could see himself through the feedback, could feel what Kolivan felt. He could only assume it went both ways, that when he arched against that hot, hard chest and into the hand squeezing his cock through his pants Kolivan could feel the echo of it on his own body, in his own mind.

“God…” Lance’s head fell back against Kolivan, his knees going weak. Kolivan fell back into the pilot’s seat and dragged Lance with him, claws tearing into the Y’tarkian garb and stripping it from Lance’s body as easily as tissue. “What are we doing?” he slurred, spreading his thighs wide and hooking his knees over the armrest. Kolivan rutted against his ass, his cock a hot, hard line, unforgiving against Lance.

“I can’t stop.” Kolivan’s words were nearly lost against Lance’s shoulder, the remains of his shirt nothing but scraps around his torso. “I’ve wanted you—“

“—still want you,” Lance finished for him. Kolivan’s words spilled into his mind. They didn’t need to speak, not with the gates blown wide open.

Kolivan got Lance’s cock out, squeezing and stroking just right. Lance choked, thighs tense as he writhed on Kolivan’s lap. There was just so _much_ , the feeling so intense—Lance kept thinking _I’m going to die, I’m going to die_ —

“You’re not.” Kolivan’s hand never stopped. Lance was so wet and sloppy, the slide so good. He couldn’t breathe when he came, just shot over Kolivan’s hand. The crest came so suddenly Lance thought he’d melt and go boneless.

The let down, however, never came.

“God, fuck, I’m still hard.” Lance stared down at his cock, trapped in Kolivan’s fist, with something akin to wonder. He’d shot off like a damn bottle rocket, but he was _still hard._ The idea that something was _wrong_ rose again in his mind, but he found himself unable to focus.

Kolivan hoisted him up, dragging Lance back to the open area of the cockpit where their makeshift beds were still set up. They tumbled down in a flurry of hands, mouths working in a kiss just this side of brutal.

Lance lost his pants at some point, and his hands went for Kolivan’s clothes, yanking at the loose fabric and pulling his shirt open, forcing it down his shoulders until Kolivan cast it aside in his impatience.

Huffing against Lance’s skin, Kolivan’s breathing sounded loud, like he was drinking in Lance’s scent. He cupped the back of Kolivan’s head with one hand and grabbed his arm with the other, pulling him closer, forcing him to blanket Lance’s body with his larger, heavier one. “Closer,” Kolivan said, his voice a low rumble, nearly a purr, that started deep in his chest. It was a noise Lance had never before heard him make.

“I don’t know if I can get any closer…” Lance’s body relaxed, heavy and slow. He felt like he was in a kaleidoscope, his vision narrowed to Kolivan but mind a viewing of Kolivan’s vision, one running into the end of the other, indefinite.

His hands shook where they slid over Kolivan’s skin. It wasn’t his first time seeing the man’s bare body but he could touch now, could slide his hands down Kolivan’s stomach and wrap them around his cock, already hard and leaking. That rumbling purr grew louder. Kolivan bowed his back, bracing himself on one forearm over Lance, the other hand sliding through his hair and tugging it, trying to ground himself.

Lance couldn’t tell if he was awake or not, if Kolivan was about to shake him awake back in the Blade’s base. He’d wanted this for so long, much longer than he’d allowed himself to acknowledge. He didn’t know if he could stand it if he woke up alone again. But it _felt_ real, Kolivan grinding down against him, cradled between Lance’s legs, Lance’s hands trapped between them. He couldn’t take his hands off Kolivan, kept tugging against the hold in his hair, the sharp pain of it sending a zing of pleasure straight to his cock even as his eyes watered. 

“Come on me,” Lance urged, using his thighs and his hands to drag Kolivan closer, grinding harder on him. He wanted to feel it, wanted Kolivan to lose it all over him. He wanted to know what noises he’d make, what kind of expression he’d have on that uniquely handsome face. Kolivan’s mouth hung open, his breath coming in heated pants that fanned against Lance’s jaw, down his neck. His grip on Lance was punishing. Lance felt owned - he never wanted it to end.

Kolivan sat back on his knees, pumping his cock and staring down at Lance with the sort of intensity he usually reserved for planning missions. Lance felt pinned in place, unable to do anything more than keep his legs splayed open on either side of Kolivan. His hands rested on his stomach, hips twitching up toward Kolivan. He could see himself, sloppy and red faced, through Kolivan’s eyes. Even with his own eyes clenched shut, the image remained, like a live video feed, Kolivan’s arousal blaring out in surround sound. 

“Don’t move.” Kolivan jacked himself faster, bracing one hand on the ground. His eyes closed, cutting the visual Lance had of himself, but the feeling behind it remained. Kolivan’s orgasm ripped through him, triggering his own, completely untouched. Lance couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything more than twitch and jerk beneath Kolivan, overstimulated to a nearly painful point. Something wasn’t right with his body. He shouldn’t be coming again, he shouldn’t still want like he did, but he felt unfulfilled, needing more of something that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Please,” he kept saying, hands grappling at Kolivan, desperate. “ _Please_ \--”

Kolivan rubbed his come into Lance’s stomach, down over his cock. He was still hard, painfully so, and Kolivan’s touch only made it worse. But at the same time, Lance felt afraid of what would happen to him if Kolivan _wasn’t_ touching him, like the universe around him would dissolve.

Lance opened his eyes when Kolivan grabbed his legs and pulled them up and over his shoulders, burying his face between them. He barely managed to choke out Kolivan’s name before Kolivan pressed his tongue flat to Lance’s hole, dragging it over the top before fucking his tongue into Lance. Lance flailed and grabbed at the bedding beneath him, needing something to hold onto. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he chanted, body humming with the feel of it. Kolivan ate him out like a man starving, spearing his tongue into Lance and lapping at the rim, leaving him wet and open. Lance’s entire body spasmed, overwhelmed, but the feeling of his own pleasure and Kolivan’s satisfaction looping through it made it impossible for him to tell if he was coming or even close to it. He felt wildly out of control. By the time Kolivan let his body collapse to the ground, Lance was gasping in air, a constant tremor running through him. 

“Let me inside,” Kolivan pleaded - and there was truly no other word for it. He rutted against Lance’s ass even as he urged him over, onto his knees. “Lance,” he said, and then repeated it, satisfied by the sound of it. Lance felt warmed by Kolivan’s affection breaking through the intensity of their shared arousal, climbing shakily onto his hands and knees. He dropped his chest to the ground, ass up, and felt little shame about it. But the thread of want in Kolivan that wasn’t driven by lust, the clear sense of emotional intimacy - Lance found himself flustered. He suddenly couldn’t look at Kolivan, didn’t want to see himself through that lens.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asked impatiently, even as his voice broke. “Kolivan--”

And like a man possessed, Kolivan was on him, letting his cock rest in the cleft of Lance’s ass before rutting gently and pulling back, letting the fat head of it catch on his rim. “Yes,” he said, that deep rumble picking up in his chest again. “M’going to fill you up--” His cock sank in, slow, the thickness of it stealing the breath from Lance’s lungs. His mouth dropped open and he pressed his forehead into the cradle of his arms. 

“Do it,” Lance urged. “Hurry, fuck me, get inside--” _Closer_ , Kolivan had said. Lance wanted that, wanted Kolivan on him, in him, surrounding him in every way Lance could have him. He wanted Kolivan in his head forever, he thought wildly, startled by the realization.

The thought echoed between them, caught up in the loop and resonating like a drum. Kolivan reared forward, fucking all the way into him and bottoming out, his pelvis hitting Lance’s ass as mouth sought Lance’s neck. He moved aggressively, mouthing down his neck to the juncture of his shoulder. Lance came, startled by the strength of it, before he realized Kolivan’s teeth broke skin. His cock twitched inside Lance, spurting, and Lance’s knees gave. Kolivan caught him with an arm over his stomach, holding him up and against him. He didn’t release him, grinding his cock into Lance as teeth pressed harder still. It should hurt, Lance knew it should, but it was as though his entire body had just relaxed, all its strings cut. When Kolivan _did_ come, Lance felt a rush of euphoria, letting out little punched sounds, trying to breathe through the sensation.

Kolivan finally released his neck, drawing back only enough to lap at the broken skin, soothing the hurt Lance knew he should feel. He’d come inside Lance but hadn’t gone soft, just kept grinding into him, picking up speed. Lance felt like a ragdoll beneath him, held up by Kolivan’s grace alone.

He watched the bite bleed sluggishly through Kolivan’s eyes, felt his satisfaction. He knew they weren’t close to done.

***

They fucked for what felt like vargas.

Lance didn’t know it was possible. His cock couldn’t keep up, but Kolivan’s could. He could _feel_ every orgasm Kolivan had, the lust and satisfaction and desperation to hold Lance close. By the time it finally cooled to a simmer, Lance could barely move, aching in places he hadn’t realized were muscles. 

Kolivan rolled him onto his back, holding himself over Lance. He said nothing, just stared down like he’d only then realized he wasn’t dreaming. Lance’s hand came up of its own accord to cup Kolivan’s face, one larger hand quickly rising to cover it, holding Lance close.

“Hey,” Lance said, smiling and exhausted. Kolivan released his hand and reached down, pulling the dampener from behind Lance’s ear. Lance expected the jarring sensation of the link breaking but instead felt the connection between them briefly mute before flaring back to life. Kolivan still said nothing, but his emotions remained plain as day: desire, affection - both soured by shame and fear.

“I don’t understand.” Lance’s voice sounded too loud in the space between them. “I can still feel you in my mind.” His thoughts remained sluggish, but he still found himself wondering. Had the druid done something? Created something between them? Was this something the empire could use against them? But Kolivan turned away from those thoughts, dismissing them. His hand fell to Lance’s neck, smoothing over the angry red bite mark.

“I did this to you,” Kolivan said. His voice shook. “I--I apologize.” 

Apologize? Did what? Lance’s mind grasped at the words but couldn’t piece their meaning together. “What are you apologizing for? The sex was _great_.”

Kolivan didn’t appreciate the humor. He sat up, moving just far enough away that the only place they touched was the press of Kolivan’s leg to Lance’s. “I marked you,” he said. He sounded so hollow.

Lance sat up with a wince, feeling the bite. “Yeah, you sure did, didn’t you? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but _ow._ ” Now that the pain was hitting him, the bite was a lot less sexy.

“You don’t understand.” It wasn’t a question. Kolivan could feel how little Lance understood. “This isn’t--this,” he waved between them, “has nothing to do with the dampeners.”

Lance frowned. “But I thought the druid’s magic screwed with them. That’s what caused all of it, right?”

Shaking his head, Kolivan took a deep breath. He felt like he was psyching himself up for something. Lance’s nerves frayed in response. “The druid’s magic triggered a feedback in the dampener,” Kolivan said. “You were correct about that. But--” Another deep breath, and okay, Lance was _definitely_ nervous. “Your presence in my mind,” he continued. “The--the fear I felt. I was afraid for you, that something would harm you. Feeling you like I did triggered a—a biological response.” His words were stiff. Lance could feel Kolivan struggling with them, trying to soothe him--but why? “It triggered a rut. It _shouldn’t_ have, but it did.”

“A…rut,” Lance repeated, dubious. Like dogs? “So that was the sex thing.” Okay, Kolivan was an alien. An alien with a weird sex drive. That was fine. Lance could live with that. It was hardly the weirdest thing that had happened to him in space.

Kolivan almost smiled, but then the shame returned. He looked at the ground. “You wanted me. I could feel it. You wanted all of me.”

“I--you knew that already,” Lance said. He stared at his hands, his face burning. “That dream--”

“I’m not referring to physical attraction. You wanted _me._ I could feel what you felt. It made us compatible.”

Okay, so that was not the most romantic confession, but Lance would take it. “Compatible is good,” he said cautiously. 

“And I marked you.” The way he said that sounded so terrible, like he’d irreparably damaged Lance. 

“So you’re a little rough in bed,” Lance said. “I can dig that.”

“I’m not referring to the physical mark. I _marked_ you, Lance. It can’t be undone.” He finally looked at Lance, reaching over to tap Lance’s temple. “In here,” he said. “I’ve marked your soul. We’ll be connected forever.” Kolivan’s expression twisted into something grieving. “I didn’t ask you. I didn’t have the right.”

“Like some kind of psychic bond?” Lance asked, bewildered. Kolivan nodded. 

So Galra got married by biting each other and, what, mentally attaching themselves to their spouse? Lance couldn’t wrap his mind around it. There was no denying that he felt Kolivan’s mind alongside his own, brushing against him. He could feel Kolivan’s fear and concern as real as if it were his own. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. And he _didn’t._ Lance knew he wanted Kolivan. The selfish part of him ate up the idea of Kolivan never being able to leave him, but just as quickly doubt crept in. Kolivan didn’t want this. He was afraid. Kolivan didn’t want--

“I want you,” Kolivan interrupted, grabbing Lance’s shoulders. “Never doubt that. You can feel me,” he said. “So feel that I am not lying.”

“Then why are you upset?” Was it really so bad?

“Even in the Empire, forcibly binding another to you is illegal,” Kolivan said. “The only reason it is not punishable by death is that the death of one bondmate will kill the remaining one.”

Lance’s stomach hollowed out. “Kill them? How?”

“The bond is unique. There’s a certain chemistry to it, the sharing of bodily fluids. To deny you would eventually cause the chemical change in the bond to attack your brain.” Kolivan sounded exhausted. “Madness, paralysis, and eventual organ failure. A physical bond is rare nowadays. Most consider it archaic.”

The reality of the situation finally sank in. “If something happens to one of us, then the other--”

“A fate worse than death, I’ve heard,” Kolivan agreed. “I don’t know how to fix this.” His perceived failure left him at a loss. Lance felt his turmoil. He suspected he didn’t have the context to understand the horror Kolivan felt, but he wanted to comfort him. 

“Come here.” Lance tugged him closer, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “You’re a lucky guy, Kolivan,” Lance said. “I’m a pretty good catch.”

But Kolivan didn’t smile. He didn’t react much at all except to pull away from Lance and climb to his feet. “We’re past the rendezvous time,” he said. “I need to check on Y’tark’s status and send a message back to base.”

“Kolivan--”

“You should get dressed,” Kolivan continued like he wasn’t sitting naked in the pilot’s seat. “We’ll be departing soon.”

Lance watched him, caught by a growing sense of fear of which he couldn’t claim ownership.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Hexworthy as always!! And to Hypotheticalwoman for letting me use her ideas on Galran terms of endearment. And thanks for the comments and kudos and all everyone!!! <3

With all the practice he’d gotten, Lance didn’t think he’d be all that affected by having someone in his mind. He was wrong.

After a terse transmission to both the Blade of Marmora and the paladins, Kolivan set a course for the castleship. They broke through the atmosphere with no interference, the planet below in the midst of a violent coup. Kyn’s only missive had been a brief thank you.

“Is it really okay to leave like this?” Lance watched Y’tark shrink in the distance until the planet disappeared in a brownish wink. “Shouldn’t we do more?”

“Destabilizing Y’tark was our goal. If we stayed behind to _stabilize_ , we would never leave.” Kolivan kept his focus on the controls, nevermind that the ship was already on autopilot.

Lance wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He was acting colder than he’d ever known Kolivan to be, and it hurt. He could feel Kolivan’s mind brushing against his own, an intimate overlap. Fear and shame and even deeper than those, a possessive nameless emotion that lit Lance up from head to toe. He wanted _that_ —the rest could fall away. Lance projected his mind at Kolivan with as much strength as he could muster, imagined the full force of his affection bowling him over. 

Let Kolivan feel _that._

“You’re angry,” Kolivan said.

_No shit_. “I just don’t get what you’re freaking out about.”

Kolivan mouthed the words _freaking out_ , then shook his head. “I can’t make you understand. This isn’t something you should take lightly.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Lance argued. “Maybe I would’ve chosen you anyway!”

“You might have,” Kolivan said, “but that doesn’t erase the fact that I never would have tied you to me like this. I wouldn’t have wanted _anyone_ to do it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re saying you don’t want me or something else.” Lance couldn’t look at Kolivan, but that didn’t stop him from feeling him. Kolivan was a bright light against the dark expanse of his mind, impossible to ignore. His emotions overwhelmed Lance, heavy with something close to grief. 

“Wanting you was never an issue. I told you—this isn’t your fault.”

“And it’s not _your_ fault either. Isn’t it kind of weird that you _happened_ to be attacked by druids? And then you just so _happened_ to go into—rut or whatever?”

Kolivan considered it. “It’s possible,” he said. “But a moot point. The damage is done.”

Exasperated, Lance whirled his seat to face Kolivan’s. “If the damage is done,” he used air quotes, frustration biting at his words, “then why worry about it at all? Lets just, you know, move forward.” Lance didn’t like to dwell. It never went well for him. In his mind, they’d basically gotten space married. His mom was going to for sure murder him, but they’d cross that bridge when they got back to Earth.

“You’re very adaptable.” The heaviness in Kolivan’s mind lightened. “I always found that an appealing part of you.”

Lance gaped at him. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Kolivan checked the coordinates again, nodding to himself. “We have several vargas before we get close to the castleship’s location. Try to rest.”

Lance looked over his shoulder at the mussed bedding behind them, still reeking of sex. They hadn’t wasted time cleaning up before take off. “Yeah, don’t think that’s going to happen.”

***

If Lance thought arriving at the castleship with Kolivan and limping to the main deck, still feeling like Kolivan was inside him, was going to be awkward, then he _really_ hadn’t considered the next part: debriefing the team.

Lance could only watch in horror as Kolivan outlined the mission - _every_ detail of the mission. There was a thorough debriefing, and then there was Kolivan stating that he’d been triggered into a reproductive cycle and dragged Lance with him.

“Okay,” Hunk interrupted. He looked a little green. “So when you say, uh, _reproductive cycle_ ,” jeez, he was even using air quotes, “is that, you know…” He made a rude hand gesture.

“I was referring to sex,” Kolivan clarified. He was pointedly not looking at Hunk but rather at the table. “After which we left Y’tark. The coup was underway.”

“Right,” Pidge said. “The coup. Maybe we could back it up a little to the reproductive cycle thing.”

“We really don’t have to,” Lance interjected.

“ _Really_ don’t have to,” Keith agreed. “Let’s get back to—“

Coran slapped his palms onto the table. “Do you mean to say you _bonded_ him?” He didn’t look grossed out or embarrassed like Lance expected. He looked—angry. Incredulous.

“You led me to believe my Paladin would be safe with you.” Allura’s voice went flat and cold. The hair on Lance’s arms stood straight, a chill sweeping through him.

“I believed he would be.” Kolivan sounded so matter of fact about it, too. He didn’t argue. His face remained smooth stone, but Lance could feel his mind raging, in turmoil. 

He couldn’t help his response. Lance grabbed Kolivan’s wrist, smoothing his thumb over the back of his hand. Kolivan’s mind went still against Lance’s. 

“Neither of us were safe, Allura. We aren’t safe _now._ But if you’re trying to say Kolivan forced me into this—“

“Tell me that he asked you,” Allura said, shutting the argument down. “Tell me that he—that he made you aware of all that this entails. I know he didn’t. This practice was archaic even when I was a child.” She stood and rounded the table, coming to stand behind him. Neither he nor Kolivan moved when Allura hooked her fingers into his collar and tugged it down. She let out a soft noise when she saw the bite mark, but when she moved to touch it, Kolivan stood, shoving his chair out behind him with a metallic shriek.

The room went silent.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” Allura didn’t touch the mark but she didn’t step away either.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t antagonize me while the bond is so new.”

“Are you threaten—“

“Let’s all calm down,” Lance interrupted, standing and placing himself between Allura and Kolivan. “This isn’t anyone’s fault! Let’s all just—“

“I’ve made my report. I have to get back to the Blade.” Kolivan inclined his head, then turned to leave.

“Wait!” Leave? Kolivan couldn’t _leave_! Lance’s mouth tasted dry and cottony, fear seizing him. He ignored his friends calling after him and chased Kolivan, catching him just outside the doors. “You can’t leave,” he insisted, grabbing at Kolivan’s uniform to hold him in place. Something he didn’t understand drove him to hold onto Kolivan, to refuse to let go. If he did, Lance felt sick with what might happen.

“I have a duty to the Blade of Marmora.” Kolivan gently grasped Lance’s wrists. His touch soothed Lance, but the fear remained. “I have to see them. Report this.”

“Why do you _have_ to? I mean,” Lance waved at the room behind them, “you act like this is such a big deal, like it’s something bad, but you’re telling everyone!”

“I have to see that you’re taken care of. Once I’ve stepped down—“

“Wait a tick— _stepped down_? Why?” 

Kolivan went quiet, staring down at where his hands circled Lance’s wrists, dwarfing him. “The Blade of Marmora has existed for ten thousand years, and its continued existence is predicated on certain tenets. Devotion to the cause is among the most important. Outside attachments are...discouraged. I can’t lead the Blade while flouting its central ideals. Even before this, I was walking a fine line.”

Saying _that’s dumb_ wasn’t going to help, so Lance chose the high road of saying nothing at all. Instead he chose to tackle the issue from another angle. “You said we had to stay together, that we _literally_ couldn’t be apart.”

“We’ll have to deal with it for a while. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“I could go with you…” Lance didn’t know _why_ he was fighting so hard to stay with Kolivan, but it suddenly felt more important than anything else—more than Voltron, than his friends. Kolivan pulled him along, leading Lance toward the hangar.

“Voltron needs you. Your team as well. I promise you, Lance. I’ll come back to you.”

Lance jerked his hand free and grabbed Kolivan’s collar, dragging him in. Kissing wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel Kolivan on every part of his body, inside and outside, intertwined with his own mind until he couldn’t tell where he ended and Kolivan began. But Kolivan pulled away after a moment, running his mouth down Lance’s neck to press his teeth to the bite, a barely there pressure that made Lance go completely limp. 

“I _will_ come back,” Kolivan promised, prying himself away. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Lance sank down against the wall. All he could do was watch Kolivan board the ship, the roar of the engines a hollow and unpleasant sound. When Kolivan took off, he didn’t move—couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to.

***

_This will get easier._

Lance woke up with those words engraved on his heart and knew he would continue to do so. Kolivan left a week before and hadn’t contacted him. A week—a whole fucking week!

Slamming the mirror cabinet, Lance turned off the sink. His emotions went haywire pretty much the moment he’d lost the feeling of Kolivan’s mind against his own, the distance between them too wide. He’d panicked, then he’d cried. No one but Hunk saw, and being best friends meant that snitching was out of the question. Unfortunately, being best friends with _Hunk_ meant everyone knew within a varga.

He’d forgive Hunk... eventually.

From crying, he’d jumped to anger, then the whole mess looped right back to the beginning. The team walked on eggshells around him, afraid of setting him off. Lance couldn’t stand it. The only one who didn’t treat him any differently was Coran, but the downside of having only Coran to talk to meant a _lot_ of talking about his feelings.

Lance spent most of his free time alone.

“ _Lance, please come to the bridge._ ”

“Speak of the devil, and he will appear,” Lance muttered. He rushed through getting dressed, not wanting the team to think he needed to be coddled—or worse, benched. He was _fine_. It was just a matter of adapting—and he was thinking about Kolivan again. Fantastic.

“I’m here,” he announced as he stepped out of the elevator and onto the main deck. “What’s the situation?”

“Late,” Keith chided him, bumping their shoulders together. “You didn’t hear the alarm?”

“The alarm went off?” Actually, that was weird. How had he slept through the alarm? He _had_ been unusually tired lately, but still…

“Nevermind that,” Allura said. “We’re all here now, and that’s what matters.” She smiled, gentle and soft in a way Lance didn’t expect. She’d become very careful of him. 

“Another beacon,” Pidge said. “It’s a planet not too far from here.” 

“Right!” Allura pulled up the map, narrowing the scope to a planet within the same galaxy. “I admit I’m not too familiar with this sector, but Coran has assured me the inhabitants of Ailon are a peaceful people. In the days of my father’s rule, the planet had no military to speak of. They relied on allies who in turn relied on Ailon’s exports—food items mostly.”

Hunk cheered. “We are running super low on, like, everything, so if we can pop into a supermarket after we finishing kicking Galra butt, that’d be awesome.”

“So we zip down there, form Voltron,” Lance mimed slicing something in half with a sword, “save the day? The usual?”

Allura and Keith traded a look. “We’re going to avoid forming Voltron unless absolutely necessary,” Keith said. “With the switch up, we still haven’t successfully done it yet. We don’t want the Galra knowing we’re weak right now.”

“We just need practice,” Pidge insisted. She was scrolling through lines of code on her data pad, her ability to multitask enviable. “This swap is just too new. It’ll come together.”

Kolivan has said as much when Lance brought that last failure to his attention. _Don’t let your insecurities get in the way_ , he’d said. “Come on, guys—a weakness? This is _Voltron_. We’ve got this!”

“We didn’t last time…”

Lance slung an arm over Hunk’s shoulders, dragging him in closer. “Don’t be a downer, man. We’re all good here.”

Hunk didn’t say anything at first, and Lance eventually realized he was staring at the bite, still red and inflamed despite the passing days. Determined to push the awkwardness aside, Lance didn’t react.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hunk agreed, shaking Lance off.

Lance wasted no time adjusting his collar. He couldn’t hide it from view, not in his regular clothes, but letting someone else oogle it felt violating. Too personal. 

“Suit up,” Keith said. “Let’s move out.”

Hunk caught Lance when they all reconvened in the hangar, pulling him aside. “Hey man, I know things have been kind of,” he hesitated, chewing his lip, “weird for you, but you’re okay, right? You can always talk to me. I mean, maybe not about the details—actually scratch that, I’m kind of curious—but I’m here for you.”

Lance felt a rush of gratitude for Hunk, the best friend in _any_ universe. “Yeah,” he said, ducking his head. “I hear you, man. Thanks.” They parted ways, Lance shoving Hunk’s shoulder playfully and Hunk returning the gesture, resulting in Lance careening into the wall. Allura shouted at them to _put the pedal on the ground_ , bless her soul. Lance felt whole, if only in that moment.

He walked to Red, hesitating as he made his way into the cockpit. Sure she let him inside, but after his poor showing the last time he’d flown her, what if she rejected him? What if—

A low purr cut through his doubts. When Lance settled into the pilot’s seat, a warmth spread through him, Red’s presence like sitting in front of a fire on a cold night, comforting and peaceful. He remembered Keith describing her as wild and temperamental, but to Lance, that couldn’t be farther from the truth

“Thanks, girl,” he said, smoothing his hand over the console. The lion flared to life, the console lighting up. He could hear the other paladins on the communication system, preparing for takeoff.

“All right guys,” he crowed. “Let’s do this thing!”

They flew in unison, moving together as fluidly as they had with Shiro at the helm. They’d been practicing in Lance’s absence, repairing the holes in their bond. Lance could feel joy in the lions again. He hated that it was without Shiro, mourned him with the rest, but he knew if Shiro could see them, he’d be proud.

Ailon was a simple planet, like one huge farm. They’d been Galra occupied for years once the empire realized what an agricultural gem they were. The large scale use of land took its toll on the planet, the once nutrient rich soil heavily depleted and producing less and less.

While the paladins spread out to get more information, Lance watched the Galra from a distance. “Soil testing, huh?” He watched a group of soldiers walking through a field, pausing periodically with small scanners. Was that what the empire had expected of Kolivan? Lance couldn’t match that image up with the Kolivan he knew, couldn’t even fathom the idea of a younger, softer Kolivan.

“ _Lance_ ,” Pidge’s voice came through on the comms. “ _We’ve found their main base. Hunk and I are going in. Get back to your lion. All out assault in thirty._ ”

“Godspeed,” he returned, laughing at Pidge’s answering huff.

Ailon was simple—but above that, it was _easy._ The kind of mission the team needed to build itself up. Lance and Red flew as one, taking out the small fleet stationed on the planet. When the dust settled and Ailon was free, Lance felt uneasy.

“Anyone else getting weird vibes?” he asked on the flight to the castleship. The possibility of needing Voltron never came up. 

“ _That was way too easy_ ,” Keith said. 

“ _Maybe they’d already given up on the planet?_ ” But Allura sounded uncertain. “ _Certainly, the resources were dwindling, but still, there’s life in Ailon. There’s more to be gained from controlling it._ ”

But the half hearted attempt to cling to control was just that—an attempt. They’d already given up long before Voltron arrived.

Lance knew they’d figure out what was going on sooner or later. The real question was what _later_ might cost them.

They made it back to base, though every tick that passed Lance expected a sneak attack, an ambush—a sudden fleet of battle cruisers. When they landed in the hangar, safe, Lance didn’t know what to think.

“Good job guys,” Keith called out. “Get some rest. Now that Lance is back, we work on forming Voltron. Bright and early.” He looked over to Allura who nodded her approval, practically sparkling at him.

She walked with Lance as they trailed out. “He’s been working so hard on stepping up in Shiro’s absence. I think the team is really coming together. Now that you’re back, everything will work out. I can _feel_ it.”

Lance smiled. Once upon a time, he’d have been over the moon at the one on one attention. He tried to remember that feeling, wanting to be the one closest to her, wanting to know intimately the soft curves of her body. But the feeling was gone. Had he grown out of it? Or had his bond with Kolivan blocked him from affections toward others? He knew so little. “Thanks, Allura. I know things haven’t been easy—“

“For you,” she interrupted. “You’ve been struggling. I’ve felt that as well. But Lance,” she grabbed his hands, stopping him in the hall. “We’re a team—no, more than that. We’re a family. Don’t be afraid to rely on us. Even with the,” her eyes flicked toward the bite hidden beneath his uniform, “situation with Kolivan. Please rely on us, Lance. We want to see you happy. What that happiness looks like is less important than you realizing it.”

Lance knew his mouth was hanging open, but _damn it_ , he couldn’t help it. His eyes burned, and he had to duck his head to wipe them, embarrassed. Any thanks he might have offered her was cut off by Coran’s voice booming over the loudspeaker. 

“ _Lance, hurry to the bridge. There’s a vid call for you. Not a moment to lose, number three!_ ”

“A call?” Lance repeated, bemused. But who—and then it hit him. _Kolivan_. He hurried to the bridge barely remembering to greet Coran when he came to a skidded halt. “A call,” he said, breathing hard from running all the way from the hangar. “Where—?”

“ _Here_.” It _was_ Kolivan. Coran stepped aside, leaving the main area of the bridge.

The call wasn’t on the larger main screen but instead on one of the small station screens. It wasn’t more than a slight measure of privacy, but Lance would take what he could get. “Where are you?” he asked, tone bordering on a demand. “When are you coming back?”

Kolivan didn’t look as stoic as usual. There was a dimness to his eyes, a faded quality that spoke of sleepless nights. Lance traced his image on the screen, overcome with a wave of longing, of hurt, of _need._

“ _I have a few more things that need to be taken care of._ ” At least he sounded regretful. Lance didn’t know what he would have done if Kolivan didn’t sound as torn up as Lance felt. “ _Being away from you is...difficult. I’m sorry for the time it’s taken to contact you. I won’t let it happen again._ ”

The elevator door opened, Pidge and Hunk arriving on deck, but Lance paid them no mind. “How much longer?” He couldn’t stand feeling like he did, like he’d been cleaved in two. “You should hurry. You should—“

“ _I know_.” There was that exhaustion, coming across so clearly. Were the Blades taking care of him? Did they understand? “ _Soon, my shield._ ” 

Lance spluttered at the endearment, but Kolivan didn’t seem to notice what he’d said. His hair was loose over his shoulder, as though he hadn’t found the energy to tidy it. The room he was in—Lance didn’t realize it at first, but Kolivan was in Lance’s room. “You’re not doing good,” he realized.

“ _The distance is taking a toll on me_ ,” Kolivan admitted, “ _as I’m certain it does on you. A little more time is all I ask. Convincing Antok to step up is a tiring process._ ”

“You’re a good leader. I don’t see why that has to change.”

Pidge and Hunk were eavesdropping. Lance looked up at them, frowning, and they quickly busied themselves with something on the main console. Coran joined them.

“ _The Blade of Marmora has its ways. I’m bound to them, as much as I can be_.”

“They’re making you leave? Your entire life is about the Blade!”

“ _Not leave_ ,” Kolivan corrected, “ _step down. Not even you can keep me from this war_.” 

“Good to hear.” The cheer he tried to inject in his voice was weak, but Kolivan looked less _wilty_ , so Lance called it a win.

Something off screen caught Kolivan’s attention. When he looked back at Lance, the tension had returned, like he’d set aside a heavy burden only to pick it right back up again. “ _I have to go._ ” He touched the screen, staring at Lance as though trying to memorize his face. “ _Be patient. I’ll return to you soon_.” The screen went dark.

Lance couldn’t look away. He wanted Kolivan to come back. Even being able to see him helped a little, soothing the ache in his chest. 

“That was so sad,” Hunk whimpered. He was actually _crying_ , dabbing at his eyes with an oil stained rag. “Dude!”

Lance didn’t blame him. He wanted to cry too.

***

Another day went by, then another and _another_. No more calls, just radio silence. Lance ached for Kolivan. He couldn’t stand the distance. If he couldn’t get his hands on him soon, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

So when a call _did_ come in, his reaction was understandable.

It was early in the morning. The paladins hadn’t begun training, were barely even coherent. Lance was still in his robe, spooning food goo into his mouth and only halfway to conscious.

Coran found him first, having run all the way from the bridge. “Lance! Quiznack, I was afraid you were still asleep! Get in uniform. Voltron is going—“

The alarms cut him off, Allura’s voice breaking through the droning. “ _To your lions, paladins! We have an emergency on our hands!_ ”

“What’s going on?” Lance jumped to his feet, fully awake. “Are we being attacked?”

Coran grimaced. “No, my boy. I’m sorry to say we’re responding to an emergency call from the Blade of Marmora—immediate extraction. And if the Blade is calling _us_ …”

Then it had to be serious.

The blood drained from Lance’s face. His knees gave, and Coran caught his arm, lowering him back to his seat. “Kolivan.” Lance’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

“I’m not sure.” Coran kept his tone soft and gentle. “We received only the request and a location. I’d hoped to break the news to you before the alarm went off.”

Lance steeled his resolve. “Thanks, Coran. I have to…”

“Go,” Coran urges. “You’ve got a job to do, Paladin!”

He suited up in a blur, running on auto. All Lance knew was that he had to get to those coordinates, had to make sure Kolivan was safe. The team understood.

“ _Everything’s going to be fine_ ,” Allura assured him over the comms.

“ _Wormhole in three ticks_ ,” Coran announced. “ _Good luck, Paladins!_ ”

They crossed through the wormhole ,and Lance’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Ailon? We were just here!”

“ _I knew that was too easy_ ,” Allura said grimly. Then, “ _Wait a tick! Coran, you didn’t recognize the coordinates?_ ”

“ _No. These are...they’re not the same. You shouldn’t be back at Ailon. It makes no sense!_ ”

“ _Oh good_ ,” Hunk said. “ _Great. Terrifying_.”

“ _Pidge, put out a reply to the distress signal the Blade sent us_ ,” Keith ordered. “ _And everyone—be on guard. Expect the worst_.”

Something wasn’t right. They _all_ knew it, but there was no turning back, not with an ally’s life on the line. 

Kolivan’s life, possibly.

They broke through the atmosphere and into immediate gunfire. They scattered to dodge it, but even while focusing on maneuvering his lion, Lance was sure of one thing. “This isn’t Ailon! Something hoodwinked us!”

“ _Everyone take cover!_ ”

The lions took to the ground, taking cover in the towering mountains scattered across the land. There was none of the open farmland of Ailon, not a speck of green in sight. But they’d seen it—they’d _all_ seen it. The planet looked just like Ailon from space!

Lance got Red to the ground and was waiting on orders when he got a pingback from the distress call. “You guys, whoever our Blade is, I’m in range. I can get to them.” He waited for a response but got nothing. “Guys?” Still nothing. _Fuck._

Setting a loop to play if someone tried to contact him, Lance took a tracker with the distress signal’s coordinates and exited Red, patting her jaw before taking off through a nearby mountain trail. The signal was close. The fear of walking into a trap wasn’t enough to stop him. Kolivan could be waiting for him, trapped or injured or—

_No_. He couldn’t allow himself to think that. He had to keep moving.

There was something familiar going on. The further Lance walked, the more certain he was. Whatever was happening was something he knew of, had experienced—but _what_?

Twenty paces from the distress signal. The sound of fighting was clear now, small explosions and shouts. Lance found cover in the stones sprouting up along the trail. 

Ten paces. Five paces.

A Blade went flying through the air, crashing into a stone. He stumbled to his feet, tail whipping about behind him. _Regris_ , Lance recognized at once. Not Kolivan, but still a friend in trouble. His gun was out without a moment to spare, but when he caught sight of his target, he froze. A druid, he realized with growing terror, accompanied by an Ylkan who had a very familiar device above their ear—a psychic implant.

And the Ylkan was looking _right_ at Lance.

He tried to move, to shout, but the Ylkan’s powers held him in place. The Druid’s attention turned to him as well and—a gun, the druid had a gun? Lance watched, heart pounding. He’d never seen a druid with a weapon.

The gun fired. Pain tore through him, and Lance stumbled, the Ylkan’s psychic hold loosening. Lance heard Regris shout—and then, nothing.


End file.
